Chuck Versus The Fork
by WvonB
Summary: Chuck and Sarah do lunch. Secrets are revealed and questions answered. An add-on to Chuck Versus The Crosswalk.
1. Chapter 1

A/N _As always a big thanks to all who have read my stories. Especially towards those who have reviewed and given much constructive advice about things I could be doing better._

 _That said, this story is a companion piece to Chuck Versus the Crosswalk, an expansion pack, so to speak._

 _So if you not read that yet, please do so before getting into this story. Certain events and actions won't make much sense or have as much impact if you don't._

 _I've taken the advice of a number of kind and thoughtful readers and done a couple of things here._

 _First of all, I'm continuing with a story that I had previously stated was complete. As one reviewer pointed out, there is no reason I can't do so if I like. So I will! Thanks for the advice._

 _Secondly, this story will be released in chapters, four to be precise. Again, I appreciate the couple of reviewers who suggested this as being a more palatable way of reading a longer story._

 _However just to be clear;the story is finished. So as I have stated before in Chuck Versus the Plan, I won't leave anyone hanging. I will release subsequent chapters about every three days._

 _One reader asked about the mysterious fork mentioned in Crosswalk and this was part of the impetus to write this piece._

 _It takes place immediately following the end of that story, before the epilogues, and answers some of the questions left hanging._

 _This will inevitably rehash some of the incidents and dialogue from Crosswalk. But there will be plenty of new stuff as well._

 _I tried to visualize the kind of conversation they would have over lunch as they endeavour to understand each other more fully. Looking back over the earlier story, I realized that while the character understands his or her motives and we the reader know them, the other person involved doesn't always know the whys and wherefores. So I've tried have them openly explain themselves more. Hopefully I've done it in a way that doesn't simply restate the obvious._

 _Lots and lots of Charah, but some adventure, angst and humor (I hope) as well._

 _Written basically in the same style as Crosswalk with the one change being that I've shown private thoughts in the form of italics._

 _My interpretation of the characters and their world is a somewhat kinder, gentler one than some. Just the way I prefer to view things. As well there will not be any graphic depictions of events. Not to everyone's taste and I appreciate that._

 _Don't own Chuck or anything related to show. Just having a blast writing about it._

 _Hope you enjoy!_

—

 **CHUCK VERSUS THE FORK**

 **Chapter 1** **:** **The Blonde, the Boyfriend and the Burger.**

 _Please, don't let this be a dream._

Over the past hour, Chuck has lost track of how many times he's repeated these words to himself

It's all because she's here, beside him, with him in a way he never truly thought possible. He's heard her say the words he had so wanted to hear for so long.

It's so close to perfect that part of him thinks it can't possibly be real. That maybe he's ill and this is all just part of a fevered dream. Or like that autistic kid in St. Elsewhere who created an entire reality in his mind.

As they drive, he tries to look out at the scenery, the road, the dashboard in front of him, _anything_ so he's not just blatantly staring at Sarah behind the wheel of her Porsche.

He keeps telling himself that she's not going to disappear, you don't have to keep checking all the time. But it's a losing battle. Every few seconds his eyes come back to her

She catches his look and smiles. It's obvious she senses at least a little of his self-doubts, so reassures him by sliding her hand into his.

This is against the rules of good driving but she doesn't appear to care. Her grin lights up his heart and he can't help but respond with a smile of his own.

There's a silence between then, but not one born of embarrassment or a lack of suitable topics. No, it's a comfortable one, the unspoken acknowledgment that each needs some time to truly come to grips with the events of the past few hours.

 _Please, please, don't let this be a dream._

He's not really sure who he's pleading to, but he keeps doing it anyway, knowing the exact moment it had started.

…

His cheek still stinging from her slap, he quickly follows, almost running, leaping, as Sarah strides purposefully into the crosswalk.

Even in the few seconds it has taken to catch up to her, Chuck marvels at her ability to take on any role almost instantaneously.

Every aspect of her body language radiates complete and utter fury. Anyone could tell this woman could've cheerfully "killed" her boyfriend but instead has chosen to walk, or perhaps more accurately, stalk away.

The eyes of the two men in the Fulcrum van follow as Sarah, against the light, walks right in front of them. Chuck could see from their overt stares that turning the corner at this moment is clearly the last thing on their minds.

Not that this surprises him. Even in her portrayal of incandescent wrath she is beyond stunning,

As he reaches her, Chuck is still unsure how he should handle his part in their delaying tactic.

A vociferous argument in front of the van will likely provide the distraction they need. He has all but decided on this approach as he grabs her shoulder to spin her towards him.

Then he sees her reaction to his manhandling.

A flash of genuine anger. Her hand raised as if she is going to strike him again.

In a sudden epiphany, Chuck realizes just how often she's had to uncomplainingly deal with this sort of physical abuse. With her marks, she could never let on just how much she hated it, could never retaliate, lest the mission be compromised.

The fact that she lets _him_ see, if only for an instant, how she truly feels, is in an odd way, a revealing, almost intimate moment.

Chuck hates the thought of her being angry with him, even for just a second. Though he knows she'll understand his actions and won't hold it against him, it still pains him.

The idea of having even a fake argument is now repugnant to him.

For a second, he is at a loss. But then, in a moment of glorious, inspired madness, he looks into her eyes and loudly exclaims,

"How could I ever even think of wanting another woman if I have you?"

He can tell by her widened eyes and shocked expression, that she recognizes the absolute sincerity of his words.

Now it's her turn to be at a loss. She appears to be stunned into inactivity. She says nothing. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the hand she raised to slap him suddenly stops it's movement.

Unaccustomed boldness overcomes him.

Before she can react he moves closer to her. He places his left hand on her lower back. Even through the cover up he can feel the heat of her skin. He pulls her firmly, quickly to him.

His right hand is in her hair, that beautiful hair that he's wanted to touch in this way for so long. He draws her head to his, leans in, closing his eyes and seeing her do the same, kisses her.

Even at this moment, Chuck's audacity has it's limits. His lips stay together.

But that doesn't stop him from pouring all he has into the kiss. Every ounce of his desperate longing. His hopeless passion. His unrequited love.

For all he knows, this may be the only chance he'll ever have to convey the true depth of his feelings.

For a few seconds, he feels no response from her and thinks she doesn't understand.

Or chooses not to.

But then he hears, feels her moan, as she parts her lips in invitation, one, that after the briefest hesitation, he eagerly accepts.

Chuck can feel her right hand urgently pulling his head closer, harder. Her left is clutching at his back, bunching up his tee shirt with her grip.

He's lost. Utterly unaware of anything except her in his arms, her lips against his. Capable of only one last coherent thought.

 _Please, don't let this be a dream._

…

He's able to tear his eyes away from her long enough to see they're getting close to the burger joint he'd suggested.

Pointing, he says, "Sarah, the place is just up there on the left."

"OK."

She gives him a doubting glance as they get closer. The place certainly doesn't look impressive. Just a small building perched on the side of the highway with a few parking spots out front, one of which Sarah quickly takes.

He answers her unspoken question. "Trust me." They both smile at this, a phrase that has become such an integral part of their complicated relationship.

As they get out of the Porsche, they take each other's hand as they walk to the entrance. It's a little late for lunch and too early for dinner, so the place isn't very busy.

A server shows the couple to a table on a deck not visible from the highway. She plops a couple of menus in front of them. Then brings two glasses of ice water, slopping a little over the sides as she places them, rather ungently, on the table.

'Hi, I'm..." she points to the name badge on her blouse, "...Cassandra. I'll be back in a couple of minutes for your order."

As she starts to turn away, Chuck stops her.

"Excuse me, Cassandra. Why does your name badge say 'Robert'?"

She looks down at it. Being as it is, upside down and backwards to her, apparently causes her some confusion.

After a long pause, she says, "Oh, now I remember. I left mine at home today. The boss wants us to wear them so the customers always know our names. Robert is off today, so I borrowed his."

She gives them a look as if to say this should be perfectly clear, "Is there anything else?"

Both give her a bemused shake of their heads.

As she walks away, Sarah raises an inquiring eyebrow.

Chuck trying to restrain himself, answers, "They have great cheeseburgers here. Just the way you like them."

"And how would you know how I like my cheeseburgers, Mr. Bartowski?" She says this with a teasing glint in her eyes.

"Well, Miss Walker, I've always tried to be observant about your likes and dislikes. Medium rare. Extra pickles. Right?"

She nods, smiling.

But then a small cloud passes over her face. She pauses for a moment, then asks, a little hesitantly, "I didn't make it very easy for you, did I?"

They both know there's so much more on the table than just her taste in food.

Chuck is tempted for a moment to brush this off, minimize the import of her question. He doesn't want to hurt her, make her feel bad over her past actions. Especially now that she's so candidly acknowledged how those actions, or sometimes the lack of them, had caused them so much frustration, sorrow, and heartbreak.

Especially now that he knows she loves him.

However, something tells him that she needs to know how he really felt. And deep down, he knows he needs to tell her.

They can't start their relationship off by hiding from needed truths.

"No, Sarah, you didn't." He sees her flinch, maybe a little hurt or embarrassed. He wonders for a second if he should've softened it somehow, perhaps by using some term of endearment (real, unlike the ones they'd used during the mission) but he immediately thinks it's too soon for that.

"I was so desperate to know you, to know anything real about you. But you were so guarded, so private." He thinks for a second before continuing, "You were like this black hole that took in everything but never let anything important out."

"There I was believing that you knew everything about me, while I was reduced to trying to understand you by the little things you let slip. Like your dislike of olives. I was always on the alert for even the tiniest scraps of information like that. I felt if I missed even one I might miss a chance that wouldn't come again. And maybe the one I missed would be the important one."

Here he pauses, feeling a little embarrassed, "I also thought if I showed you by my actions that I'd noticed those little things, you might start to like me, a least a little."

He shrugs his shoulders and gives her a half smile, "Even then I knew it was kinda pathetic."

She looks at him thoughtfully, "Maybe a little."

This time it's _his_ turn to flinch.

She squeezes his hand as she smiles, "But it was also very sweet. I'm very touched that you felt I was worth all the effort."

"Sarah, you are worth every effort. Never, ever doubt that." Looking her in the eye, he says this slowly, earnestly, keeping in mind the so recent revelations of her insecurities.

She smiles again, a little shyly this time, "Thank you for believing in me."

He nods, "You're welcome."

After a few quiet seconds pass, he goes on, "So there I was, poking, prying and still not learning very much. Then came the day Heather Chandler-"

Just then, Cassandra reappears and he stops talking, unwilling to carry on without the measure of privacy their somewhat isolated table affords.

"Can I take your order?"

She's been gone for longer than the promised couple of minutes and there's something about her that makes Chuck wonder if she _actually_ can _._ But he doesn't say anything, just nods, deferring to Sarah.

"Double cheeseburger platter. Medium rare. Extra pickles. A Coke to drink, please."

Cassandra scrawls on her order pad for a few seconds. Then she looks over at Chuck.

"Same for me except that I'll have mine medium. Thanks."

She starts to write but suddenly stops, appearing to be at a loss.

"I'm sorry but you can't have one half of the burger medium and the other half medium rare. The cook told me not to ask for that again."

For a moment Chuck is puzzled, then understands, "No, Cassandra. We're not sharing a platter. I'm having my _own_ burger, medium, and my..." he pauses for a second, realizing just how important his next word really is, "...girlfriend," Sarah's grin catches his eye, "wants her burger medium rare."

"Oh, I see. That does make it much easier." She writes a bit more and then looking down at her pad, says, "So that's _two_ double cheeseburger platters, one medium, one medium rare, two Cokes and hold the pickles."

This time Sarah steps in, "No, Cassandra. _Extra pickles._ "

"For both of you?"

Chuck can see Sarah is working hard to control her slightly exasperated amusement, "Yes. For both of us."

"OK."

She starts to walk away, but then stops and turns back to face them, "I forgot to ask what kind of cheese you want on your burgers."

Sarah replies, "What kind of cheese do you have?"

"We have cheddar."

After a few seconds pass and she doesn't add anything further, Sarah says, deadpan, "Let's go with that, then."

"OK. Good choice." Cassandra writes down this last bit of information and then departs.

Chuck gives Sarah a sheepish grin, "Their burgers really are very good."

She chuckles back, "They better be."

He just nods.

She looks in his eyes for a few seconds, "So, girlfriend, huh?"

"It seemed appropriate."

"I suppose that means I have to think of you as my boyfriend."

As she speaks, he can see the teasing look in her eyes.

"Only if you want to."

She heaves an exaggerated sigh, "I guess that'll be OK."

Dryly, he responds, "I'm overwhelmed by your enthusiasm."

She laughs and he can't help but join in.

Boyfriend and girlfriend. It thrills him to know that these aren't just labels anymore, that they actually mean something now. And her joyous expression, her beautiful laugh, just confirms she feels the same.

As their laughter subsides, he catches a glimpse of their server at another table.

He looks at Sarah appreciatively, "By the way, thank you."

"For what?"

"For proving that not all blondes are like Cassandra."

"You're welcome. I have had to play her type a few times, though."

"That I would've liked to see." Chuck says this eagerly.

She grins at him, "Some of the marks equated dumb with easy. I've had the chance to disabuse a few of them of that notion."

As she says this, there's a fierce gleam in her eyes that makes him very glad they're both on the side of the angels. The thought of Sarah disabusing him of anything sends a chill down his spine, and not the good kind. He feels a momentary empathy for those unknown men, even though he knows they got what they deserved.

He shakes it off, deciding to pick up the thread of their interrupted conversation, "Speaking of blondes. When Heather showed up, I saw my chance and without thinking it through, took it."

Chuck pauses, feeling a spike of shame over what he's about to say, "Sarah, even though you did make it very difficult for me, my conduct during the reunion was still inexcusable, shameful. I pushed myself into areas of your life I had no right to go."

She doesn't say a word, just looks at him with gentle eyes, letting him continue.

"The ironic part is at the end of those few days, I realized that even though I still didn't know your real birthday, your real hometown, your real name, _I knew_ _you._ I finally understood that I didn't need to know all that stuff to understand who Sarah Walker is. The fantastic, beautiful person she is."

She gently squeezes his hand, waits for him to finish.

"And now with what you've told me today, I feel even more like an insensitive idiot."

"Sarah, can you forgive me for being so inconsiderate, for being so selfish?"

...

It's a bit of a shock when Sarah realizes he's the only man she can remember who has genuinely asked for her forgiveness, who has done so without an ulterior motive.

The few times that Bryce had apologized for some action, she'd known it was just a polite, pacifying gesture, not actual remorse. And certainly, none of the marks would ever express any regret. After all, they were incapable of being wrong.

Even her father had never really apologized for using her as part of his cons. Never said he was sorry for taking away her innocent trust of people. He'd viewed his misuse of her childhood as a right bestowed upon him simply by being her father, so what was there to be sorry for?

But here's Chuck, opening his heart to her, leaving himself vulnerable. It frightens her a little to know how much power this gives her over him. She knows how badly she could hurt him by simply being unforgiving, by denying his heartfelt request. She knows how easily she could manipulate him by only offering that forgiveness on a conditional basis.

She understands the life she has led, with her father, with the CIA, has made her in some ways just that:unforgiving and manipulative.

But she's incapable of being that way with Chuck. Has never been and could never be.

She knows his asking for her clemency is unnecessary, that she'd pardoned him long ago.

Now _he_ needs to know as well. "Chuck, you don't need to apologize for that. You've already done so. And I've already forgiven you."

He looks confused, _is_ confused, "When? How? I don't remember-"

"Right after the reunion. You apologized by your actions. You stopped badgering me for information. You didn't jump on little things that came out and try to pressure me into telling you more."

He's surprised, "You noticed that?"

"Of course I did. It was kind, considerate...sweet." It's the third time today she's used that word, one that she honestly can't recall using in this context before.

It just seems to suit him so well.

She leans over the table towards him and he meets her halfway for a gentle kiss.

"I also noticed you were trying very hard to not show any emotions when I was with the mark last night. I really appreciated your effort."

"I thought I'd done a pretty good job but you saw right through me, didn't you?" He appears a little abashed as he says this.

"Yes, Chuck, I did. But in all fairness, those who didn't know you so well would've likely been fooled."

He chuckles, "Well, so much for my acting career."

She smirks, "Oh, I don't know. I think you've nailed the part of Chief Nerd Herder."

"Ha, ha. It appears I'm in love with a real comedian." But then he can't stop his real laugh.

She laughs back, warmed by this seemingly offhand declaration of his feelings.

 _I can be pretty funny sometimes._

It's at this moment that Cassandra makes her entrance, a plate in each hand.

"Here you go." She unceremoniously dumps one in front of each of them.

Looking at Chuck, she says, "Medium rare for you and for you girlfriend, medium. I'll be back in a moment with your drinks." With that, she's gone again.

They silently exchange their meals. Sarah warily eyes her food sitting on the chipped plate. It certainly looks... _interesting_.

Chuck's grinning at her again, "Try it, you'll like it."

Before she can reply, Cassandra brings their Cokes, this time managing not to spill anything.

"Enjoy your meals." Without waiting for any acknowledgement of what is more command than request, she drifts, somewhat distractedly, towards an occupied table at the other end of the deck.

Sarah chuckles, watching her walk away, "She's a very...unusual person. Reminds me of a server I met in a small New York restaurant."

Chuck smiles back, "I'm not sure unusual is quite a strong enough word." He gives her a mock serious look, "OK. Enough deflecting. Time to eat. Here's a little trick I was once shown. Take your burger this way." He demonstrates by putting his thumbs on top and his fingers below. "Then when you pick it up, it's upside down and the juices drip down onto your fries."

She is a little dubious yet decides to follow his lead. She brings the burger to her mouth and takes her first bite.

Sarah suddenly remembers attending a performance of Beethoven's Ninth while on assignment in Germany. The "Ode to Joy" chorus had enchanted, transfixed her.

She swears she can hear those voices right now.

It's messy, disgustingly sloppy as it drips over her hands but Sarah doesn't care. It's fantastically, stupendously delicious. Literally the best burger she's ever had. Close to being the best food she's _ever_ eaten.

She feels like she's moaning as she takes another bite.

 _Did I just do that out loud?_

Chuck's smirk from across the table puts any doubt to rest.

She's a little embarrassed, but only for a moment.

 _Don't care._

It's only a few minutes later when Sarah disappointedly pops the last bit into her mouth. Her hands are horribly messy and she suspects her face is as well. Reaching for a napkin, she catches his stupefied stare, his half eaten burger in his hands.

"What?"

"Sarah, the last time I saw something like that, it was a video of a hungry lioness tearing into a zebra. Did you actually chew or just inhale it?"

As she wipes her face, she blushes a little, realizing how she's behaved the last few minutes. But looking at him, she sees no judgement (not that she expected to), rather, only geniality.

"Well, we didn't get a chance to eat earlier." He acknowledges this with a nod. "I guess I was really hungry," she finishes, a little lamely

"Hungry, I can understand. This apparent week-in-a-lifeboat-with-no-food-level-of-starvation is a little more difficult to figure out."

"Ha, ha. It appears I'm in love with a real comedian." She repeats his earlier line, smiling, and is gratified to see the expression on his face as _her_ casual declaration of love sinks in.

Despite this, it appears he's not quite finished with his ribbing, "Ellie once told me that beautiful women often have to eat like a bird. I just didn't know she meant a vulture."

She loves this back and forth between them, this banter. Though only hours old, it's already become very precious to her.

Sarah laughs out loud, "I'll have you know, Chuck Bartowski, that I wouldn't act this way with just anyone. I'm usually much more sophisticated and ladylike."

As she says this, it hits her just how true those words really are. On a job she could never be so open, unguarded. And even in her personal life she would rarely let anyone witness such uninhibited behavior. Worried it would damage her carefully cultivated facade of the near perfect agent.

Much more worried that it would reveal, even a little bit, of that private inner core she's learned to hide so well.

With Chuck, though, Sarah has no such concerns. There's no need for even the slightest pretense. There's nothing she needs to put on for him. She's completely confident they he accepts, loves, all of her. The good, the bad, and, apparently at this moment, the ugly.

With him she can just _be._

It's exhilarating, intoxicating to be so free. She can't honestly recall the last time she felt so unfettered.

It's an amazing gift. One that, until a few hours ago she hadn't known she'd wanted, needed so badly. One that (she's almost certain in this) Chuck is completely unaware he has given her.

And one that (in this, she's _absolutely_ certain) she will never willingly give up.

...

Even though she'd made the statement in apparent jest, Chuck knows there's a great deal of truth behind the words. Sarah is usually much more restrained than this. In all the time they'd spent together, he'd seen only occasional flashes of anything like what he'd just witnessed. Until today, those instances had always been quickly reined in, rapidly brought back under control.

Chuck knew she hadn't done so just because of the embarrassment that people normally felt over the silly, foolish things they do. Yes, there is a little of that, however, in Sarah's case, he realizes it runs much deeper.

If you let people see too much, it makes you vulnerable.

How often had he seen that unspoken maxim implicit in her actions? In her reticence?

He can only imagine how careful she's had to be for most of her life. Can imagine her telling herself: _Today you're this person. Act this way. Talk this way. Look this way. Remember this and you're good. Let people see who you really are and it will go badly._

But, this day, this incredible day, Sarah Walker, against a lifetime of ingrained habits, against all the rules, has let Chuck Bartowski _see her._

Todayshe's made the choice to let herself be vulnerable.

And he has no real idea why.

 _I need to know._

He puts the remainder of his burger back on his plate. He knows he needs to focus just on her as he asks, "Sarah, can you tell me, why today? What changed?"

…

 _Trust him not to realize his own importance in all this._

She has no trouble recalling the moment.

"Chuck, the bikini was the catalyst. It's what made me understand how I really felt about you."

She can see him thinking, trying to put the pieces together. There is a slight slump in his shoulders when he fails to do so.

"I give up. How?"

"I believed that you didn't like red on me. Which, by the way, I've not forgotten we agreed to discuss later."

He squirms a little, "OK. If you still want to." He looks like he's hoping she won't.

 _You're not getting off that easy, mister._

"When I saw the color, the first thing that came to mind is that you wouldn't approve. Right then I realized that I cared very much about your opinion and had felt that way for a very long time."

He smiles a small smile, a bit of wonder in his eyes, "Really?"

She smiles back, "Yes, really. You remember the red dress I wore on that mission with Bryce?"

He nods enthusiastically.

"I worked very hard to make myself look as good as possible. I told myself it was solely for the mission but I know now I mostly did it for you. I'd come to appreciate, love, even anticipate your genuine compliments."

"I didn't realize they meant that much to you."

"Well, they did and they do." She hesitates a few seconds before going on, knowing what she's about to say will hurt him, at least a little, "So, when you were so wishy washy I was disappointed, crushed."

There's genuine contrition in his eyes, "Sarah, I didn't know I'd hurt you."

"It's OK, Chuck. I hadn't been very open with you so how were you supposed to know?" She squeezes his hand to show him she appreciates his unspoken apology.

"After that, I pretended your approval wasn't important. I hid my feelings for you, even from myself."

He nods again to show he's following, his eyes on her face.

"Chuck, I don't know if you're aware that many people call me the 'Ice Queen' ".

This time he's definitely embarrassed. Looking down at the table, he nearly mumbles, almost too low for her to hear, "Yeah. Casey said something about that once. I think he was trying to make me afraid of you or something."

She chuckles a bit at this, "He probably thought it more likely you'd stay in the car if you were."

She continues in a more serious note, "The truth is, Chuck, that even in my early CIA days I was known for showing no emotion, being coldly efficient in my assignments. In the seduction missions, no matter what the mark said or did, it didn't really affect me, although I pretended to respond to them. Good or bad, nothing really got through to me."

"This worked so well that it reinforced my behavior. It became so ingrained that even most of the other agents believed I was aloof, detached, unfeeling…uncaring."

She can see the distress at this in his eyes. "But, Sarah, you aren't anything like that! Not at all!"

"Chuck, be truthful. Didn't you think that's the way I was, at least at the beginning?"

Chuck's silent for a few seconds, thinking. "Yeah, I guess I did," is his unwilling admission.

Then he quickly, hastily adds, "But that was only for a little while until I started to know you better."

She smiles her thanks, squeezing his hand again, "Chuck, you need to know that I came to you fresh from the whole Bryce Larkin fiasco, determined not to let my emotions get the better of me. Determined to not let anyone get to me again. Not to let anyone hurt me again, like Bryce did. To protect myself I believed I had to be that 'Ice Queen'."

"Sarah, I had no idea." He smacks himself on the forehead, "Then there I was, this big doofus, pressuring you, hounding you. Selfishly thinking only of myself."

He takes her hands in his, "Sarah, can you forg-"

She quickly cuts him off, "No, Chuck. No apologies. If I'd opened up a little, I know you wouldn't have acted that way. A little honesty would have alleviated so much of the garbage that went on between us. I'm the one who should be sorry."

He's vehement in his words, "No, Sarah, I can't let you take all the blame. I could have been a lot more sensitive."

She smiles, "How about this? I know we'll need to discuss this more later, but for now we'll accept that both of us could've handled things better and move on. OK?"

He grins back, "OK."

"Now, back to the story. I told myself, again and again, that's who I need to be. But I found myself slipping up more and more often."

Pausing, she looks him straight in the eyes, "Most often with you."

He nods.

"You noticed?"

"Yeah, I did. But I wasn't sure if it was just me, reading too much into things."

"I'm beginning to think the only person who couldn't see it was me." She grins ruefully before continuing, "I believed all the dinners with Ellie and Devon, sitting close to you on the couch, were all simply part of selling the cover. I convinced myself that when I touched your arm or adjusted your tie or gave you a quick kiss, it was simply what a 'girlfriend' should be doing."

"Every once in a while, I'd start thinking about things I shouldn't. About a you and me. When I'd catch myself doing that, I'd force myself back into 'agent mode.' Remind myself that this couldn't happen."

He nods again.

"I gather you saw that as well."

"I hope this doesn't sound too creepy, but I notice pretty much everything about you."

"Chuck, from anyone else it would be. Not you, though. Somehow you make it...adorable."

With a grateful look, he says, "I appreciate that. I would have taken anything that doesn't portray me as some obsessed stalker."

She grins, before becoming more serious again, "Another area where I knew I was slipping was in the recent seduction missions. They irritated me, angered me, something that'd never happened before. I couldn't figure out why they had such an effect on me, why I've been in such a rotten mood the last week."

He does his best to make his expression appear pensively surprised, as if this is news to him, but he's not fooling her.

Laughing, she says, "Don't try that innocent look with me. I know very well you noticed."

He chuckles, "OK, you got me. But it wasn't just me, Casey did too. When you walked out after the briefing this morning, he told me to watch myself, that you were ready to explode. Even he was afraid at the thought that you might unload on him."

 _Even Casey? Nice to know I still have it._

She finds a certain satisfaction in that bit of intel.

"He was right to warn you. The timer was pretty close to zero." She grins, "Know what saved you?"

He looks a little unsure, shaking his head.

"You were quiet and just let me think things through. I appreciated your patience, thoughtfulness. When you gave me the space, I eventually realized how badly I was acting."

She leans across the table again and gives him another kiss, a little longer one this time.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He looks a little sheepish, "Sarah, I'm a little embarrassed to admit there was a selfish motive as well."

When he pauses, she raises one eyebrow and tilts her head inquiringly.

"Well, I've kinda gotten used to my head staying on my shoulders, so I did my best to make sure we didn't have a repeat of the Dr. Zarnow incident."

 _Thought I'd been right about that part of his motivation._

Considering the lambasting she had given him then, it's no wonder he wanted to avoid a repetition of what must have been a thoroughly unpleasant experience.

Looking across the table at him, she's once again struck by how different he is from pretty much every other man she's known.

How many of them would ever let on there was anything but pure, unselfish concern for her and her feelings behind their actions? Sarah had never had any trouble seeing right through their sensitivity act, knowing very well what they hoped to accomplish by portraying themselves in such a light.

On the other hand, it's so refreshing to be with him, not having to be concerned about a hidden agenda behind his words and actions. His willingness to honestly admit his shortcomings, his genuine humility, makes him a far better man than any of those Alpha types she's had the misfortune to spend time with.

Seeing how open he's being, it's only right that she returns the favour.

"Chuck, I also have a confession to make. When you saw me in the bikini for the first time, I was watching for your reaction. Testing you in a way."

He looks thoughtfully at her, "It did feel a bit like that. What were you looking for?"

"I needed to see how you would look at me, whether it would be in any way like the mark did last night or the way..." she stops, suddenly realizing how this sentence is going to end.

"You know what? Never mind. I was being foolish."

With an earnest look, he quietly says, "It's OK, Sarah. You can tell me."

When she's still silent, he gently prompts, "Or the way..."

In a slightly embarrassed rush it comes out, "Or the way you always look at me."

He smiles. "Then it's safe to assume that I passed?"

She just nods her head, and then, a little reluctantly, goes on, "Chuck, part of me wanted you to fail."

She can see he's a bit shocked at this.

"Why would you want that?"

"I believed that if I saw that same look in your eyes that most men give me, I could back off, pretend there's nothing really special between us. That you weren't really any different from the others. And if you were like them, even just a little bit, it would make everything simpler, less complicated. We could just go on, agent and asset, staying the way we were."

She can feel him still holding her hands, very tightly yet somehow still gently, "I was afraid, knowing if we went beyond that, I would have to open up myself to you."

"But then you looked at me the way you do and I knew."

He gently asks, "Knew what?"

"I knew I'd finally figured it out. There I was, at last understanding how much you meant to me. Understanding how much I wanted something real. Knowing I could have it with you. Trusting you'd be there when I needed you."

Looking him straight in the face, she says, "So I made a decision."

"You said, 'I'm ready, Chuck.'"

"I'd wondered if you picked up on that."

"I didn't presume to know exactly what you meant by it, yet it gave me something to hang onto."

Looking intently into his eyes, she quietly says, "Chuck, that was the moment I decided to put aside all the rules, all the objections," she pauses for a second, "push back all the fears, and just let matters take their course. I just needed that last little nudge, a sign if you will. Didn't know what or when but I was convinced it would happen. And it did."

"The crosswalk." It's a statement, not a question.

"Yes, Chuck."

They're both silent for a time, "The Kiss" still fresh in their minds.

He's the first to speak, "It'll be an interesting situation to explain to them."

"What? Who?" She's a little confused, knowing that it's too soon to tell Ellie and Devon and certainly way too soon to tell Morgan.

He looks at her with a serious expression, one that implies there should be no uncertainty about who he means, "To our kids, when they ask you at what point you first acknowledged you loved me. I'm thinking two girls and a boy. If we get married tomorrow, we can get started right away."

Her jaw drops, her mouth dry, her mind in a whirl.

 _He wants to get married and have kids right away? I'm not ready for that! But I love him and if that's what he wants, we'll need to talk._

She closes her eyes, desperately thinking about how she can respond to this bombshell without hurting his feelings, at least not too much.

 _I just need to tell him how I honestly feel. No more hiding. He'll understand. I know he will._

She takes a deep breath and opens her eyes, "Chuck, we need..." and sees him smiling at her, one of his face splitting grins.

"That's for the hooker comment and the Victoria's Secret thing."

"You...you stinker, you louse." As the relief washes over her, she can't help but let out a laugh, a rather shaky one.

As he smirks at her, she looks across the table at him, thinking.

 _No, not right away, but not too far off, either._

 _..._

Watching the emotions pass across her face, Chuck marvels at how much easier she is to read now. He's fully cognizant that this is not due to any suddenly acquired ability on his part.

No, it's all her. Sarah Walker, in an act of pure courage, has stepped out from behind the barriers she has spent a lifetime in building. In so doing, has made all he knew, or perhaps more accurately, _thought_ he knew, pale in comparison to what she's shown him these past few hours.

Chuck, despite the fact that he finds it so easy to be free with his emotions and feelings, fully understands the monumental effort she has had to put forth to come this far.

Although it's remained unspoken, everything this day, her words, her actions, _everything,_ has told him that he is the first person for whom she's done this.

With that awareness, the last stubbornly remaining vestiges of his jealousy over her and Bryce evaporate.

He's staggered as he fully realizes all that she has done for him. To ever treat her gift with the slightest disrespect, even the tiniest hint of disdain, would be a cruelly unkind, horribly ungrateful act. One that he is determined to never commit, even in the most trying circumstances that may someday come their way.

Looking at her, almost overwhelmed with gratitude, Chuck wonders, not for the first time, what Sarah would have been like if her father had simply been a regular dad, if she had taken a normal career path. She certainly would have been a _different_ person. But he can't conceive how she could be a _better_ person than the one in front of him right now.

Awash with flaws, replete with contradictions, she's simply Sarah.

Simply perfect.

And for reasons he's just now beginning to grasp, she's given him her love.

 _Please, don't let this be a dream._

...

As she looks across the table at her _real_ boyfriend, Sarah thinks how that term is so inadequate in describing all that he means to her. It seems almost juvenile, like they're both kids. But upon further reflection, that's no too far off the mark. They both have a lot to grow into, putting away their immature actions and really getting to know one another.

For that reason she's glad for once to be at a restaurant with such spotty service. Otherwise they would almost certainly have been interrupted, perhaps numerous times, during this last lengthy and intimate conversation.

It's been easier than she'd feared, opening up to him. However, that doesn't mean it is _actually_ easy. She's had to struggle with every long bred instinct, fight against all her years of training to bring herself to this point. From somewhere she's found the strength to suppress the warning voices before they were able to tell her she was saying too much, showing too much.

But it's still strange, unnerving, this new way of acting, thinking, speaking. So the last thing she needs is for Cassandra to interfere in their tête-à-tête, most likely at the most inopportune time as servers are wont to do. She knows that if that had occurred, she may have, at least temporarily, lost the courage to continue on in her self revelation.

And she needs to continue. She needs to know, needs him to know, this love struck, candid Sarah. A person so utterly unlike the businesslike, taciturn Agent Walker of just this morning.

Agent Walker's life had been planned, charted out for the foreseeable future. She had known exactly what she wanted to be, where she wanted to be and when this was all going to take place. It was all so certain. So safe. Which seems a bit ironic, considering the business she's in.

Right now Sarah is so far out of that comfort zone that it's not even funny. She has no real idea what's going to happen now, where life will lead them. It's only taken a few short hours to turn her world on it's head and toss all her preconceived ideas right out the window.

It's alarming, unsettling, disconcerting, even a little terrifying, however, she knows she can never go back to the way it was. Back to the way she was.

She remembers standing under the shower, the day of Bryce's "funeral". As the warm water washed over her, she'd known for a certainty, right then and there, that she would be truly alone for the rest of her life. That when her time came, she would die alone as well.

There had been no anger or resentment, rather, just an honest feeling that she was OK with this. After all, there are worse things than being alone. Like being alone even though you're with someone. Like she'd been with Bryce in the time leading up to his betrayal.

And at least this way, there would be few to feel overly sad at her passing. That had been oddly comforting to her.

Being alone is easier. Better.

No sooner had she reconciled herself to this, however, when the mere act of being around Chuck began to erode the foundation of that belief.

It seemed every time she turned, he was gently demonstrating just how wrong she really was.

Over and over, he had shown her the critical importance of family and friends, of having people to love and being loved by them in turn. He'd shared with her the reassuring comfort gained in knowing you can depend on others and the prideful satisfaction that comes with knowing they can depend on you.

And implicit in all of it was the open invitation for her to become part of that very attractive yet very frightening world. A world where she is so unsure of her footing. A world where people like her (she believes) don't really deserve to live.

So she fought it. Fought him.

Instead of graciously, sensibly accepting his offer, she'd done all she could to shore up the weakening structure of her stubbornly held convictions. When she'd caught herself giving in to the allurements before her, she had always (eventually) put her foot down, banished the subversive thoughts and pushed him away, often unkindly.

But he didn't give up. He just kept chipping away at the cracks, wearing down her resolve, until today when that whole edifice tumbled into ruins and took all her careful plans with it.

She's never been happier.

None of this would have been possible without Chuck. No one prior to him had been capable of awakening within her this intense desire to be more than just Sarah Walker, CIA Agent.

She now knows that going forward without him is inconceivable. (She mentally smirks, realizing this is the second time she's thought of the Princess Bride today.)

The love of this good man is an underserved gift. It's to be treasured, treated with the utmost respect. Never to be tossed aside.

 _Never_.

Sarah realizes she's been lost in thought for a while, focused in the distance, so brings her eyes back to his face. It seems he's been distracted as well, for when he catches her look he appears a little startled.

"I guess we've got a lot to think about, don't we?"

He nods, looking a little chagrined over his woolgathering. "A lot to learn, too."

"Yes, so much."

As she glances at her plate with the mostly untouched French fries, she notices the unused cutlery beside it.

 _Well, there's a good place to begin._

Picking up one of the pieces, she looks at him and says, "It's time I tell you the story of this."

TBC

—

 _A/N Next we'll learn how an particular eating implement and a certain landlocked South American country (Hint:It's not Bolivia) fit into our favourite female agent's past._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N:Thanks for all the kind reviews of chapter 1. I mentioned there would be adventure in this story. Here we have it. (I hope) The cutlery question will be answered. Apparently the definition of cutlery varies. By the term I do mean knives, forks, etc. Used because it fits my titling better._

 _This is the longest chapter of all and sadly one with no Chuck. (Although there is a sneaky reference to him. In a way. Hint:Think Spanish name translated to English equivalent.)_

 _All that I said in the authors notes for Chapter 1 apply here. Won't bore you by repeating them here._

 _Don't own Chuck. Just enjoying the writing about him and his world._

—

 **Chapter 2:The Colonel, the Coup and the Cutlery.**

Asunción, Paraguay

Sarah Walker really, really dislikes having to be a brunette. She's not certain why she has such a strong antipathy towards that coloring, yet she does. Sure, some of the people who'd cruelly teased her in school and training had that shade of hair, but she doesn't think that is reason enough to bring on such a strong reaction. She suspects it's just temporary, that her aversion will eventually pass.

After all, she can't really come up with any legitimate reason to dislike brunettes, and doesn't think it likely she ever will.

For the meantime, however, she has to live with it. In a shorter mission, she would have simply worn a wig. Longer term missions like this one required a dye job and constant maintenance.

This all because her superiors felt that her being blonde would stand out too much in a country of primarily darker haired people. Sarah was reluctant, but had to agree that they didn't want to draw unwelcome attention.

However, that doesn't mean she has to like waking up every morning, wondering for a second who is looking back at her in the mirror.

She's here because the current Paraguayan government has the support of the U.S., despite the fact that it's far from perfect. Considering the country had thirty-one presidents in the first half of the twentieth century, the current regime is at least comparatively stable and less autocratic than most. So when intelligence uncovered information on a possible coup d'état, it was decided to intervene in an effort to maintain the status quo.

Sarah, with her perfect Spanish and chameleon like abilities was chosen to go undercover. Hopefully, she would be able to infiltrate the rebel's organization and obtain the intel needed to defuse the situation.

Since she speaks no Guaraní, (a native language which 95% of Paraguayans use to some degree) it was decided that Sarah's backstory would portray her as a Colombian who'd recently married a Paraguayan man. In her carefully constructed history, her "husband" had been rounded up after a anti-government rally and then disappeared. This had all taken place a month ago, just after he'd moved them back to Asunción.

Since that time, Sarah, or Sara Belissa Franco, as she was now known, had made herself a thorn in the governments side. She continued to be a vocal critic of all the secrecy, demanding information on her husband and the others who had also vanished. She'd even been arrested a couple of times for her activities. The government, feeling the increasing pressure of international criticism over human rights, had released her each time and allowed her to continue in her protests.

All of this was part of the effort to gain the notice of the suspected leader of the plotters.

The intel had indicated this was most likely to be either a General Duarte or Colonel Costa. Both were known to be ladies men, so it was hoped that her politics along with her beauty would attract the attention of the guilty man.

And it did.

...

As Sarah is returning to her apartment, groceries in hand, a uniformed chauffeur approaches her and politely invites her into the large car parked at the curb. Her body language conveys a defiant but slightly nervous apprehension as she approaches the rear door. The chauffeur takes her bags, placing them on the ground, then opens the door for her.

 _This may be the break we're waiting for._

Once seated, she immediately recognizes the man beside her, of course never giving him any indication of such.

Colonel Emilio Costa. 43 years old. Five foot ten (too short for her, assuming she had had any actual interest). 185 pounds (a little on the heavy side). Single, with a continuous succession of women in his life.

He oozes confidence, in his looks, his power. Dressed in civilian clothes, he is moderately swarthy with a dark hair and moustache. Good teeth, which he is showing in what she thinks he thinks is a charming, reassuring smile.

 _The smile of a predator._

"Señora Franco, my name is Emilio Costa. I am delighted to make your acquaintance."

He holds out his hand and she takes it, somewhat nervously, conveying to him her trepidation.

With a slight tremor in her voice, she asks, "Señor Costa, what is this all about? What do you want with me?"

"Sara. May I call you that? It's such a pretty name."

 _He's a fast worker._

She nods, hesitantly.

"Sara, you have nothing to fear. Your plight has come to my attention. It touches my soul to see you in so much distress. I am here to offer my assistance."

"How can you possibly help me?"

"Sara, I am a Colonel in the Presidential Escort Regiment and am close-"

Before he can finish the sentence, she yanks her hand from his, and practically spits out the words, "You're the problem, not the solution! It's men like you that made Carlos disappear!"

She starts to reach for the door handle.

He quickly grabs her hand, "No, Sara, It is the President's secret police who are to blame. I have made it my life's work, protecting the rights of Paraguayan citizens."

 _Yeah, right. How about telling that to the survivors of that village you had destroyed for suspected anti government activity?_

She lets his statement mollify her apparent anger a little and curtly nods for him to go on.

"As I was saying, I am close to the President and have constantly encouraged him to deal with these outrageous violations of human rights in our wonderful country."

He looks very saddened and discouraged, "But, alas, his other advisers have more sway over him and so he continues in this foolish course. It makes me ill to see these terrible things happening."

 _How stupid does he think I am?_

In a somewhat conciliatory tone, she says, "Perhaps I have misjudged you."

"Do not blame yourself. It is natural to assume that someone in my position may have been involved in these terrible acts."

"I feel that the Paraguayan people will shortly stand up and say, 'Enough'! When that day comes, I promise that whatever modest authority I have then will be used to ascertain the true fate of your husband."

 _Yes, I'm sure that when you're dictator you'll be able to do whatever you want._

She asks in a voice filled with doubt, "Why would you do this for me?"

"I know you are not a native of our country and only newly arrived. It does not seem you have many friends." He pauses, "Or anyone to protect you."

He smiles, "So I am volunteering my services."

 _Does this fake chivalry actually fool anyone?_

She sounds skeptical, angry as she asks, "How do you know all these things about me?"

"My duties include the assessment of those who may be a threat to our President. Your recent activities, justified as they may be, have brought you to my attention. I found it necessary to read your file. You will be happy to know that I have informed my superiors that you are not to be considered as being of any real danger to the government."

Giving him an expression of relief, she says, "Thank you for that. However, you should know I will not stop until I find out more about Carlos and the others."

"I would not expect that a woman like you _would_ stop. I applaud your courage."

"I only have the courage because I care for my husband and others who have lost someone close to them. I am normally not this bold." Sarah's instincts tell her that Costa isn't attracted to an overly strong type of woman, so she knows she needs to add this amendment to her character.

"Sara, that makes your bravery even more remarkable." He pauses to give her a meaningful look, "It is only your beauty which is more remarkable still."

Sarah rarely ever _really_ blushes anymore, but her training has enabled her to give a convincing impression of doing so on demand.

Her head down, she quietly says, "Señor Costa, I am a married woman and I love my husband."

"Of course, Sara. I am not suggesting anything improper. Your beauty is such that all the world can it appreciate, however, it is only to be possessed by him that is closest to your heart. I offer only my friendship. Your unhappiness pains me, so if my company will allow you to regain even a little joy, I will be content with that."

 _Sure you will. And where does he come up with this stuff?_

"Thank you, Señor. It appears I may have once again misjudged you. I can only attribute it to the anxiety over my husband."

"Do not concern yourself. I can only imagine how distressed you must be over the even temporary loss of one you love so much. Fate has never given me a woman for whom I can feel such strong devotion," he pauses, his eyes downcast, "although I do have hope that in the near future she may appear."

 _I'd bet he thinks he's being subtle._

"Thank you again for your concern."

"You are most welcome. Sara, your situation has inspired me to take immediate action. I will look into your husbands case, quietly, so as not to alert the secret police. I will contact you as soon as I have any information."

"Thank you so very much. How can I repay you? Your kindness is more than I deserve."

"Nonsense. This is much less than you deserve. I have only one request."

"Anything within my power."

"Could you possibly find it within your heart to address me as Emilio?"

Sarah pretends to blush once again, "Alright...Emilio."

...

Two days later, the car is waiting as Sarah returns from her morning run. Once again she's politely ushered into the back seat.

Her running outfit is much more conservative than she would normally wear. Even so, she can sense the lasciviousness in Costa's gaze as his eyes sweep over her. However, by the time his look reaches her face, he displays nothing except an expression of sorrowful concern.

"Sara, I am just going to say this quickly as I am a plain spoken man of few words."

 _He actually believes that?_

"What is it?" She lets a note of worry creep into her voice.

He hesitates for a moment, "Sara, your husband is dead."

 _He's obviously read the file we planted at the secret police headquarters._

"What!? No, it cannot be true!" Whenever Sarah needs to cry on demand she thinks of the day her father was arrested. Imperfect a dad as he had been, he was nonetheless the only family she really had, the only person with whom she could ever let down her guard.

 _It's been so long since I've been able to do that._

As the tears come, she asks in a quiet voice, "How did it happen?"

He appears to hesitate once again.

"Please tell me."

Emilio reaches over to take her hand, "It appears he died under torture. I was shocked and saddened to find out there are those of my fellow countrymen who would do such things."

"Why would they do that? Carlos was a kind man, he never hurt anyone. He was always loving, gentle, concerned about the needs of others, even ahead of his own."

 _What I wouldn't give to really have someone like that._

"I do not know. But you have my promise that when I find out who these...these bastardos are that did these things, I will have them brought to justice."

She uses her fingers to wipe away the tears, "Thank you, Emilio. I know this was difficult for you. It was very kind of you to come and tell me personally." She reaches for the door handle, "I really need to be alone right now."

"Are you certain? Perhaps it might be best if you had some company."

 _Probably hopes the grieving widow will turn to him for comfort._

"You are kind, but no, not right now. I'll need some time to work through this."

"Sara, I know you must hate this country right now. However, I believe there are changes coming, good ones, for a better Paraguay. Soon, very soon."

She just nods, numbly, opens the door and moves herself from the seat. As she walks away, she hears Emilio, "Take care, my dear. I will call you on Friday."

She gives him a tremulous, sad smile over her shoulder and says nothing further as she turns away and shuffles off to her apartment building.

 _We're getting closer._

...

As promised, he called on Friday and every day thereafter. The conversations had been brief, with Sarah usually on the verge of tears, always refusing his offers of companionship. But after the first week had passed, Sarah had allowed herself to be coaxed out of her apartment.

She agrees to meet him for lunch at a nearby sidewalk cafe. Wearing a conservative black dress, she approaches the table where he is already seated. Catching sight of her, he immediately stands and moves to slide out the chair for her. After she's seated, he sits and looks across the table for a few seconds before speaking.

"How are you, my dear?"

She shrugs her shoulders, "As well as can be expected."

With a concerned look, he says, "It is so sad to see you in black. It is not right, natural. A woman as beautiful as you should be dressed in bright, happy colors. You should be laughing, enjoying all that life has to offer."

"Maybe one day, Emilio, one day."

"Perhaps you will allow me to help you find even a little bit of that again. If you permit, I would like to show you more of our fair city. Please correct me if I am wrong but it seems to me that you have not had much of an opportunity to do so."

"No, you are right. With all that has happened, I have had little chance to appreciate Asunción."

"It will be my pleasure to escort you."

"Perhaps a few days from now."

He nods, "Certainly." He hands her a card, "Here is my personal number. I will await your call."

"But now we must have our lunch." He snaps his fingers and the waiter who had been standing respectfully out of earshot, quickly approaches.

"Parrillada of beef and the usual side dishes."

"Yes, Senõr. And to drink?"

"The Bodega Catena Zapata 2005."

"Excellent choice, Senõr." He bows and then scurries off to the kitchen.

"I am certain you will enjoy the food. It is a Paraguayan favorite. The wine, however, is from Argentina. That is one area where my country does not do so well."

Sarah is used to men like Costa flexing their power and masculinity, so hadn't even batted an eyelash when she was not even acknowledged during the ordering procedure.

 _Would be nice to be treated like I was actually here._

"I am sure I will very much like all that you have chosen, Emilio."

He looks pleased with himself.

Her crossed arms on the table, she leans towards him. Putting a look of determined cheerfulness on her face she requests, "So tell me a little about your city."

...

Since that lunch, they have spent the better part of the past month together. He has taken her everywhere around the city and it surrounding countryside.

Sarah has learned much about the country, it's people and history as he does seem genuinely proud of his heritage and homeland.

They'd explored a number of the best restaurants. She's really enjoyed getting to know the cuisine of the country, even though she has never once been allowed to choose her own meal.

She had pretended to enjoy the operas that they'd attended, putting on a smile and feigning interest in the convoluted and melodramatic plots. She swore to herself that the next time he made plans to listen to another soprano screeching away, earplugs were going to be packed in her clutch.

Sarah is sure they have the right man. His character, his background, the hints he'd dropped all pointed to him as the head of the revolutionary forces.

But he was cagey, never saying or doing anything that would unequivocally tie him to such.

She knew it was time to turn it up a notch.

Sarah is very grateful for the cover that had been chosen for her. The "grieving widow" gave her plausible reason to resist Emilio's increasingly less than subtle advances. She was surprised how patient he had been in pursuing her although it was very likely he wasn't exactly remaining celibate while doing so.

But now it was time to push matters.

One evening as they drove back to her apartment after a particularly annoying opera, (She'd quickly realized it would be too obvious if she _actually_ used the earplugs) she reached over to take his hand, something she hadn't done before.

Looking him straight in the face, she quietly says, "Emilio, you have been very kind and patient with me. I have been thinking about things. I have come to realize I have been grieving over Carlos since that day he disappeared, not just the past few weeks. Part of me already knew he was dead."

She stops as if she is a little ashamed to go on. She turns her eyes away from his gaze.

"What is it you want to tell me, Sara?"

She takes a deep breath, looking down into her lap, "I believe I am almost ready to move on, that I have been mourning long enough. I know Carlos would want me to be happy."

She turns her head to look at him again and shyly says, "And _you_ have had made me happy this past month."

Most people would not have noticed let alone recognized the look that flashed so briefly across his face. But Sarah, ever observant, ever perceptive, did.

Triumph. Greed. Lust.

"My dear, does that mean what I think it means?"

"Yes, Emilio. I will need just a few more days, but yes."

"Sara, you have made me very happy as well. I have cared for you even before I met you, since the day I read your file. When I did meet you, I started to believe that you were that woman, the one that fate finally sent me. The one to be by my side for the rest of my life."

Sarah thinks he probably actually believes there is truth in his words. This is probably the reason why he has waited so long, at least a long time for someone like him. If she hadn't seen that expression cross his face a few seconds ago, didn't know what she knew of him, she may almost have believed it herself.

She imagines for a moment what it would be like to be married to someone like Emilio Costa. She wouldn't be a person, rather just a thing, a beautiful possession to show off to others. Any pretense of genuine love would quickly pass as would any show of concern for her needs or feelings. Faithlessness and betrayal would be a constant theme of any relationship with such a man.

 _Far better to be alone._

He continues, "Sara, my dear, there is a momentous event this coming Saturday. Our president will be signing a accord of peace with the president of Bolivia. It is a symbol to demonstrate that there a no longer any hard feelings between the two countries."

"General Duarte has decided to assume command of the Presidential Escort for that day, so I will be free. I have a modest apartment overlooking the Presidential Palace and I would ask you join me there for lunch. We will be able to observe the ceremony to be held in the Palace plaza."

"That sounds delightful."

"My driver will pick you up at 11am."

"I will be ready."

"And Sara, please bring whatever you need in order for us to enjoy breakfast together on Sunday."

She looks shyly down to her hands, before quietly responding, "Yes, Emilio."

"Good. I am looking forward to Saturday, in more ways than you can now know. I tell you confidentially there will be some very surprising events happening that day, ones that I know will please you very much."

"What kind of events?"

"Patience, my dear. All will be revealed when you join me there."

"Alright, Emilio. I am looking forward to it."

After they pull up to her building, he walks her to the front door and quietly asks, "Sara, may I kiss you?"

She nods, seemingly a little unsure, then says, "Yes, Emilio, you may."

He leans closer until their lips meet. The kiss is surprisingly gentle, almost chaste. Nonetheless she has to work hard not to shudder at the contact. It's strange how his kiss, rather than conveying as it should, affection, instead somehow manages to reveal the true depths of his cruel and dangerous character. Sarah has had to kiss quite a number of men in the course of her job. Yet none of those previous times have had anywhere near this effect on her.

Sarah Walker, who is afraid of nothing, is suddenly a little afraid of Emilio Costa.

...

Since going undercover, Sarah has had almost no communication with her backup team. Not being certain of the level of surveillance assigned to Sara Belissa Franco, it was decided to keep all forms of contact to an absolute minimum.

They had resorted to the tried and true method of dead drops. Each day of the week had it's own rotationally assigned spot that she could check during her morning run. If she saw the indication, one of her team reading a newspaper on a park bench, walking a dog, etc., she knew there was something for her. So while stretching against a wall or drinking from public fountain she would recover the tiny micro SD card from it's designated hiding place. In turn, a subtle innocent looking gesture from her or certain color of headband would alert them to a drop from her.

The cards, if ever found, only appeared to contain multiple touristy photos. Only the appropriate program could extract the data contained in the harmless looking images. She'd wondered a couple of times if the tech geeks might someday find a way to make this technology even more useful.

The morning after she "revealed her feelings" to Costa was certainly a dead drop one. After encoding her intel and suspicions onto the card, she inserted it into a tiny hidden slot in the right heel of her running shoe.

As she exits her building, right on schedule, she sees the lead of her backup team across the street enjoying his morning coffee at the small outdoor cafe. She hadn't met the man before this assignment and had known him only by reputation. While Sarah recognized that he was very capable and fully trusted him to carry out his role, she hadn't really liked him since that first mission briefing. Good looking, with brown wavy hair and blue eyes, she'd thought him a little arrogant, full of himself. She hasn't really minded that operational security kept their contact to a minimum.

This morning, she knew her red headband would alert him to her drop, so without a second glance, stretches and then goes off on her run. After two miles, she stops at the designated drinking fountain, and while waiting to use it, pretends to tie her shoe while quickly palming the memory card. As she drinks, she surreptitiously slips it into the small crack on the rear of the fountain. Invisible unless actively searched for, it's one she's used a few times in the past.

 _Now they'll know what she knows. Is it enough to help figure out what's going to happen? To stop whatever that might be? We'll see_.

She starts on the run back to her place.

...

The next morning she gets her reply via the park bench dead drop. After returning home she inserts the card into the reader. Opening the correct program, she decodes the images and reads the contents of the file.

She's presented with a list of the heightened security measures for the ceremony on Saturday. It's felt this will be enough to prevent any serious attempt to disrupt matters.

Sarah is ordered to remain close to Costa, to keep the appointment for Saturday. It's felt wearing a earwig or a wire would be too dangerous. Instead she will wear a specific bracelet that when activated will alert her backup and bring them to her within five minutes. Of course she is only to use this if there is a significant development that requires an immediate response, beyond what she can handle on her own.

Sarah has a gut feeling that tomorrow is going to be the day. She's not sure what is going to happen but whatever it is, she will do her best to make sure that people like Emilio Costa don't triumph.

…

The next morning finds Sarah waiting in front of her building. She has her hair down in soft curls and is wearing an emerald green sundress that falls to her knees. As usual she's wearing flats. Yellow ones with a small bow. She knows that being taller than Costa is a definite no-no, so she's had to banish her favourite high heels to the back of the closet.

After much internal debate the only weapons she decides to bring are the knives strapped to her thigh. If she's wrong and nothing happens this day, she'll have to remove even these when she slips into "something more comfortable."

With this possibility in mind, her overnight case contains a number of items beyond what would be normally expected. A lipstick that she can safely wear that will knock out the person she kisses. The newly developed twilight tranq darts that will eliminate the last five minutes from the recipients memory. These could be safely hidden. However, her favorite Smith & Wesson was another matter. With reluctance, she's had to leave it behind.

Sarah again mentally reviews how she'll handle Costa if she does wind up spending the night.

She believes she could still fall back, at least one more time on the grieving widow act, tearfully requesting his patience once again. However, she'll tranq him if she gets the feeling that won't fly and he wants more than she'll give. It's not the best option, but she thinks she be able to convince him he just had a little too much to drink.

Hopefully it won't come to that. She strongly suspects he'll reveal enough today so her team can simply grab him and stop his plans before they ever really get going.

Exactly on time, Costa's car pulls up to the curb. The chauffeur quickly exits and holds the door as she enters the back seat. He takes her overnight bag and deposits it in the trunk. As he starts driving, Sarah knows without checking that her two car backup team is following.

A few miles later, the chauffeur stops the car in front of an imposing colonial style building. Reversing his procedure of a few minutes before, he opens the door and helps her exit. He gives her overnight case to a white jacketed servant waiting by the building entrance, who then opens the door for her and leads her to an old yet still beautiful brass and glass cage elevator.

As it takes them to the third floor, Sarah can't help but marvel at the beauty of the well maintained building.

 _Obviously the Colonel business pays very well._

She follows the servant down a short hallway to a set of tall double doors. Without knocking, he opens one and gestures for her to enter. She does so and is immediately impressed by the grandeur of the room. It could easily hold her whole D.C. apartment with room to spare.

 _This is his idea of modest?_

The twelve foot ceilings and tall windows give it airiness. It's tastefully, exquisitely decorated. Sarah wonders for a moment whose concept she is seeing realized. This elegance and beauty certainly had not come from the heart and mind of the man now walking towards her.

"Sara, my dear. It is so good to see you." He kisses her cheek and then looks her up and down, "And I must say, you look ravishing as always."

He's wearing a lightweight gray suit and tie, even with the heat. She's noticed that most Paraguayan men dress up in public. She has to admit it looks quite classy.

"Thank you, Emilio. You are too kind." She looks around her, "Your home is beautiful, stunning." As the words come out, Sarah realizes this is one of the few times she's actually been truthful with him.

Proprietary pride is evident in his voice as he replies, "It is impressive, is it not? It once belonged to a prominent opposition politician. Unfortunately, his health suddenly deteriorated and he felt it necessary to move abroad. Out of gratitude for services I had rendered him, he gave me this place for a very reasonable price."

 _Probably literally gave it to you after you threatened him with a firing squad._

He takes her hand, "Come, my dear. We will enjoy our lunch outside."

He leads her through a set of tall French doors onto the large balcony. An intricate wrought iron railing encloses the space, giving safety yet not blocking the view overmuch. Under a large umbrella there are three chairs around an elegantly set table. Next to it is a standing ice bucket containing an unopened bottle of champagne.

Noticing that third chair, she glances questioningly at him.

"A slight change in plans. A business associate of mine who has just arrived back in the city will be joining us. But do not fear, we will have an abundance of time for ourselves later."

 _I hope whoever is coming will not put a crimp on what he wants to tell me._

Almost as if he's read her mind, he takes her hand and leads her to the table, "We have a few minutes before he is due, so please sit. There are important things I need to tell you."

He slides out a chair for her. Sarah feels uneasy as he chooses the one that places her back to the door. It's likely he just wants her to enjoy the marvellous view, but his choice makes her feel vulnerable. It's not as if she can complain, however.

 _I'm sorry, Emilio, could I please have that other chair? As a trained CIA agent, I don't want someone to be able to approach without me being aware of it._

It would certainly be interesting to see the expression on his face if she did say that.

He sits in the chair to her left, "Sara, today is going to be a momentous day for this country. For far too long those who love Paraguay have had to sit back and watch her slip into dissolution and ruin. The man who is supposed to be leading us, setting the example of courage and strength, is, in fact, a coward and a weakling."

"This farce of a ceremony today only confirms what kind of man he has become. Bolivia has been and will always be an enemy of this country. To sign any sort of accord with them is a betrayal of everything I and many others hold so dear. The time has come for a change."

"I tell you this, Sara, because I know the actions of those in charge have caused you great sorrow. While I believe that true enemies of peace and security have to be dealt with appropriately, ones who are innocent, like you husband, should never have to suffer at the hand of the government."

He pauses to look into her eyes, "And when I am in charge, you have my promise that actions like that will not be tolerated."

"Emilio, what are you saying? Are you going to run for president?."

He shakes his head at her naivety, "No, no, my dear. The problem requires a much more immediate and drastic solution."

He gives her a wicked smile, "As one wise man said, 'You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.' "

"What does that mean?"

"It means that no changes can be made until those who support this corrupt regime are quickly and forcefully removed from their positions of authority. Our President and General Duarte, who leads our armed forces, along with many of their sycophants will be at the ceremony today."

He looks at his watch, "In fact they should be arriving quite shortly. The official events start in just a few minutes."

At this, Sarah can't stop herself from looking towards the Plaza. About two hundred yards away, a large crowd including a small band, has gathered around a raised platform. Sarah is aware of the heavy security measures that have been set up, so wonders what Costa could possibly be planning.

 _I need more information!_

He catches her glance, "Sara, I know you are unused to violence."

 _If you only knew._

"But they have left me no choice in the matter. So I must apologize in advance for the terrible things you may see today."

With a blazing, almost fanatical zeal in his eyes, he goes on, "But after these needed things are done, I will, with you by my side, lead our people to transform this country. A year from now no one will even recognize it!"

 _I'm sure they won't._

It's at this moment that Sarah realizes she has underestimated Costa. It's quite evident that part of what drives him is a self-serving, greedy lust for power. But it's also evident that there's much more to him than just that.

She now clearly sees that Costa is that most dangerous type of revolutionary, one who truly believes in the words that come from his mouth. One that is fervently convinced that only his actions can save the country he loves.

"Emilio, you are frightening me. What are you going to do?"

He appears to be ready to tell her, but just then the servant comes onto the balcony.

"Sir, the gentleman you expected is waiting at the front entrance."

 _Dammit! I just needed another minute!_

"Thank you, Marcos. Tell him I will be there in a minute or two. Please bring our lunch in ten minutes."

"Very good, sir."

As the man walks away, Emilio turns back to her. She hopes that he will continue with his revelations but no such luck.

Instead his conversation takes a different path, "Sara, the man you are about to meet is a former American intelligence agent who has been working for sometime as a freelance security expert. He has the ear of the Bolivian President, his advisers and is trusted by them."

In her mind the alarm bells are starting to go off, but externally Sarah shows nothing except attentiveness to his speech.

"In actuality he has been working for me, aiding me in my crusade to heal my country. He has been gently nudging their President to accept the overtures of accord from our side, to come here for the ceremony. Equally important is that he has arranged matters in such a way that after today's events transpire, the blame will rest squarely on the heads of Bolivian fanatics. He's arrived just this morning along with their delegation. I have invited him here to see the results of his hard work. Then later to reap his rewards."

He gives her a smile. However, she can sense there's seriousness in his tone as well, "I need to warn you. He is a very pleasant, handsome man. You must not let him come in here and sweep you off your feet."

She smiles back, "Of course not, Emilio. I am not some flighty teenage girl to be thrown into a tizzy by a charming smile."

He chuckles at this, "Then I will bring him here and introduce you."

He stands and heads towards the front door.

 _Damn. Damn. Damn. What do I do now? I still don't know exactly what's going to happen. But what if this guy knows me? Calm down Sarah, the chances of that are almost nil even if the man was a real agent of some sort. He's probably lying about his past anyway._

She takes a few deep breaths, calming herself as she hears voices approaching. She thinks of standing in order to see their entrance but knows this would only display her anxiety. She puts on the large sunglasses which up to this point have been sitting on the top of her head.

 _The lenses aren't very dark, but if I do know him, it might give me a extra second or two._

She hears the man say, "Colonel, we need to be very careful. I have just heard from my local contacts that the CIA may be sniffing around."

Costa replies, "Do not concern yourself. I have been very cautious these last few months."

Sarah looks to her right and sees in the reflective surface of the wine bucket a distorted image of the two men walking onto the balcony.

 _There's something about his voice..._

Before she can think any further on this, the two men reach the table. Costa sits first to her left and as the other man goes to the chair at her right, Emilio says, "Sara Belliso Franco, may I introduce you to..."

 _Bradley Pittfield._

"...Bradley Pittfield."

In the past, there had been a number of occasions where random chance had worked in Sarah's favor. When it had facilitated the success of a mission, kept her from serious bodily harm, or helped her avoid dangerous situations.

This is clearly not one of those occasions.

 _Of all the balconies, in all the towns, in all the world..._

Sarah can't help but reword a quote from one of the few movies she knows well.

When she'd finished her CIA training, she found she had little or no desire to follow the careers of her classmates, and especially no inclination to know of _this_ man's path. Nonetheless unsolicited tidbits of information kept coming her way. After graduating near the bottom of their class, he'd bounced around for a few years in various low level assignments. Rumor had it that after resigning, he'd gone into the private sector, using his CIA experience (if so, greatly exaggerated by him, she'd been certain) to land a variety of jobs in South America.

It appears the rumors were correct.

It amazes her how chance has brought her back in contact with this person she dislikes so intensely. And, of course, at the worst possible moment. If she believed in karma or fate or bad luck she would be cursing them all right now. As it is, she knows that sometimes you're simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No matter what happens in the next few minutes, Sarah is determined she'll either get out of it or go down swinging. It's in her hands.

As Bradley sits, she notices he looks a little soft around the edges, like he's leading the good life, not taking care of himself as well as he should. He offers his right hand and says in excellent Spanish, "Sara, it is a pleasure to meet you."

She notices he uses the correct Spanish pronunciation of her name. It's apparent that he has not recognized her and for a heartbeat she believes he may not do so at all. After all he hasn't seen her in a good eight years, her hair color is different and the sunglasses are doing a good job of obscuring at least part of her face.

But then as she takes his hand, she sees something flicker across his face. She recognizes it for that niggling sensation people get when they feel they should know someone but can't quite figure it out.

She tries to deflect his thoughts by replying to him in heavily accented English, "The feeling is mutual. I believe, Mr. Pittfield, that you are an American?"

"Yes, I am. But I enjoy conversing in Spanish. You don't have to trouble yourself on my account." He smiles at her, but she can tell he's still puzzling it out.

She smiles politely in turn and it's at that instant she can see it finally clicks in for him. It was probably her slightly imperfect front teeth which gave him the final piece he needed.

No matter, really. The jig, as they say, is up.

She can see the shock pass across his face as he blurts out in English, "Sarah? Sarah Walker? What the hell are you doing here?!"

He had never been the most brilliant amongst her classmates, but even _he_ can connect the dots.

He looks over to Costa, who, hampered by his lack of English, is looking very confused.

In excited Spanish, Bradley exclaims, "Colonel, this woman is a CIA agent!"

He starts to withdraw his hand from hers, obviously going for the pistol under his jacket that she'd observed as he sat down.

One of the reasons Sarah is such an effective agent is that in situations like this, time seems to slow down for her. Her reactions and thought processes are so incredibly fast that it appears everyone else is moving in slow motion.

 _can't let him get his gun knives under my dress no time right hand tangled with his my left hand free use what's there_

As Pittfield's hand comes free from hers, Sarah's left arm flashes across, the heavy fork in her hand pinning his right sleeve to the table.

Then, in one smooth motion, she uses her now free right hand to grab the neck of the nearby bottle of champagne. Swinging it quickly, she slams him hard across the left side of his head.

It had always frustrated Sarah to see how easily wine bottles shattered over a person's head during TV or movie fight scenes. The truth of the matter is that _real_ wine bottles are much tougher than that, and champagne bottles are tougher still.

So with that in mind, even during her haste, she hadn't hit Bradley hard enough to seriously hurt him. Certainly he would be unconscious for a while, would probably be concussed, and would undoubtably have a doozie of a headache when he did wake up. But he _would_ wake up and when he did, she wanted to see him squirm, face the consequences for his actions.

He falls to his right, dragging the tablecloth with him, throwing everything into disarray.

Sarah has a tiny moment of satisfaction as he hits the ground.

 _Told you what would happen if you touched me again._

However, she does seem to recall that it was a different body part that she'd threatened to break.

Sarah turns to see Costa lurching up from his chair, tipping it onto it's back. He appears to be bewildered, shocked by the sudden turn of events.

He takes a few steps backwards, almost tripping over the fallen chair. His hand instinctively reaches towards his right hip but stops when he apparently realizes he's not wearing his sidearm. It appears that he is unarmed as he makes no further effort to reach for a weapon.

 _He probably didn't want to spoil the lines of his expensive suit._

He backs further away from her, keeping his eyes on her face the whole time.

Sarah can imagine what's going through his mind right now. Gone is the gentle, submissive woman of just a few minutes ago replaced by this vengeful fury.

He finally manages to speak, confused, "Who _are_ you?"

Sarah takes a few seconds to calmly place the champagne bottle back in the bucket. As she stands, she removes her sunglasses, dropping them on the table. She then activates the emergency beacon in her bracelet.

For a moment she'd thought of going for Pittfield's gun but had dismissed it. He's face down and covered by all the debris from the table, so by the time she dug it out, Costa would be gone inside, perhaps for a weapon of his own.

So instead, she faces him, keeping eye contact, the fork still in her left hand.

For a moment she entertains the idea of saying something along the lines of "Your worst nightmare", but instantly dismisses it as being overly melodramatic.

Instead, in a quiet, nonetheless firm voice, simply says, "I was sent here to stop you."

"You really are CIA?" He asks as if he can't fathom the fact he's been deceived so thoroughly.

She just nods while taking a few slow steps closer.

This seems to move him to action and he quickly reaches into his right pants pocket. For a moment Sarah thinks she was wrong, that he does have a weapon, however, his hand comes out holding only an old fashioned flip phone.

"No point to that, Emilio." She speaks to him quite differently than she had just a few minutes ago. She's no longer diffident, but rather is authoritative, confident.

It's obvious who now is in charge and Sarah thinks this may be more of shock to him than the ruination of his plans.

She continues, "My backup team will be here shortly. No sense calling for help."

She takes another step and he backs up further, until he's right up against the wrought iron railing. She stops about twenty feet away from him.

"Emilio, there's no place to go. You've failed. Give up now and perhaps your president will simply throw you in jail rather than having you shot."

"Well, Sarah Walker, it seems you are not quite as thorough as you thought."

Something has given him back a measure of defiance, confidence. She's not sure what but she needs him to keep talking with the hope he'll give himself away.

His thumb is hovering over the keypad as he speaks, "If I press this, everyone at the plaza ceremony will die, blown to pieces."

Sarah feels a stab of fear, but suppresses it and in it's place radiates confidence. She shakes her head, "No. I don't believe you. There's no chance you could get a bomb close enough. They've increased security so much that it never could happen. I'm not sure why you're even bothering to bluff."

He actually laughs a little bit, "It is no bluff, I assure you. I have been planning this for a very long time. Last year the water lines that pass under the plaza needed work. During that time I secretly arranged for a number of high explosive devices to be planted at various points, including the location I persuaded our president to use today. The bombs are underneath the flagstones where even the dogs cannot smell them. Each of them is wired to receivers which will respond to a specific number that I call on the speed dial."

She has to admit to herself that this is a clever plan.

"Why bother to do this? You know you'll never get to be in charge now."

He actually seems to ponder at this, "Spite, maybe? Anger towards those who are ruining my homeland? Perhaps. But hope as well. The explosion was to signal the start of the coup to my loyal subordinates. Maybe one of them will find the ability to step up and take control when I'm unable to do so. Although I do admit that is quite unlikely. None are as capable as myself."

 _Even now he's still arrogant._

Sarah wants to keep him talking until her team arrives, so is glad he seems so willing. But she has to wonder why he hasn't simply pressed the key and be done with it.

But then it becomes clear. He's _delaying her_ until he knows the two presidents have arrived at the ceremony. She brings her left arm up so she can see her watch without taking her eyes from him.

It confirms what she thought. They should be arriving right about now.

 _Almost out of time._

She knows if she makes any overt move to grab one of her knives or rushes him, he will simply go ahead and set off the bomb, even if that doesn't give him exactly the outcome he prefers. She takes another slow step.

"No closer, Sara." He reverts back to the Spanish pronunciation as he looks somewhat wistfully at her, "You know, I really did care for you. This last month was one of the best I have ever had."

Sarah knows he will see through any efforts to placate him. She's playing a risky game as she decides instead to make him angry, to attack him personally.

"Well, Costa, I'm very good at my job, putting on the act. For me, this last month was sheer torture. You believe yourself to be god's gift to the female sex. However, I tell you, every moment I spent with you made me feel physically ill. I practically vomited when you kissed me. I can only imagine how nauseating it would have been if things had gone any further."

Sarah looks him pointedly up and down, "Not that you likely have what's needed to satisfy a woman in any case."

She believes it may be working. He can't conceal the fury in his eyes as she so viciously assaults his manhood. The phone appears momentarily forgotten, as he lowers his arm. She takes another step closer.

He looks as if he's ready to physically attack her. She prepares for his furious charge.

But just then, there's a fanfare from the plaza, obviously announcing the arrival of the two main participants in today's ceremony.

This seems to bring him back from the brink, "Good try, Sara." He raises the phone to eye level once again, "You almost made me forget my greater purpose."

"The irony is that the chaos you hoped to prevent will now be much more severe. With the president gone, the head of our military dead, there will be no one left to take charge. The end result will be much worse than than if I had been in control."

"Think of that when you hug your self-righteous, interfering attitude to yourself this evening."

His thumb starts towards the keypad.

 _Out of time._

Sarah desperately wishes she had one of her well balanced throwing knives in her hand. But she doesn't, so will have to make do with what's been given her.

Despite all her training, Sarah knows she can't be as accurate as she needs using her left hand. So, with a flick of her wrist, she flips the fork up into the air above her head, towards her right side. Taking a step forward with her left foot, she rotates her right arm like she's pitching a baseball, catches the handle just as it starts to descend, and in one continuous motion slings the fork as hard as she can, tines forward.

It hits him in the wrist, reflexively causing him to release the phone, tumbling it over the railing, down to the street below.

She hears the clatter as it hits the sidewalk. Both pause for a moment, holding their breath, one fearing, one hoping. After a few seconds pass, it's clear that nothing is going to happen. He either hadn't quite pressed the key or the impact broke the phone apart before the call was completed.

Costa looks disbelievingly at his right wrist. The fork has only stuck shallowly into the skin and falls to the ground when he lowers his arm, leaving behind four dots of blood.

 _That went well. Maybe they should add fork throwing to basic training._

When he raises his eyes to look at her, she thinks she is finally seeing the real Emilio Costa. The polite, smooth spoken, suave facade has been stripped away leaving only the vicious animal in it's place.

He's been beaten. And what's worse, by a woman.

Sarah can easily see the murderous intent in his eyes. If he's going down at least _she_ mustn't be allowed to gloat over his defeat.

This time he does rush her, arms outstretched, teeth bared and an actual growl coming from deep within his throat.

Sarah can easily tell he has not engaged in much hand to hand combat during the course of his career.

So she just waits for him to close the gap. At the last possible instant, she steps to her left, ducks below his flailing arm and simply trips him with her right leg.

He goes down hard, landing flat on his face. Rolling over he sits up with a groan, just in time to catch Sarah's swinging kick to the side of his head, knocking him cold.

 _That's what you get for delegating all the grunt work to your subordinates._

 _Now, where's my backup?_

She hears a noise from the doorway and turns expectantly towards it.

Marcos is standing there, a food cart in front of him.

 _Damn! Forgot about him. Rookie mistake._

He appears bewildered for a second, taking in the chaos, the two unmoving men. But then he moves, reaching towards his back, undoubtably for a gun.

She quickly hikes up her skirt and reaches for one of her knives, knowing it will be a close thing, maybe too close. But then she sees Marcos' hands change their direction and go up over his head instead.

 _What?!_

The explanation is quickly evident as the head of her backup team pushes the servant onto the balcony, gun shoved firmly into his back.

Sarah is still standing there, her skirt halfway up her thigh, her hand on one of her knives. She straightens up and hurriedly smooths out her dress.

"It's about time."

"I believe it was less than the five minutes promised. I think this means we get a free pizza." His irritatingly smug expression grates on her nerves.

 _I really don't like smirkers._

His eyes sweep over the scene, "Dead?"

She shakes her head, "Unconscious."

The other members of the team appear. One makes sure Marcos is secure and leads him inside. The others rapidly go to the two immobile men to ascertain if they pose any threat. After the two are cuffed, they're dragged by main force inside the apartment.

Quite quickly, the balcony is cleared, leaving just the two of them.

Holstering his pistol, he observes, "Well, Sarah, it appears you pretty much had everything under control in any case."

"Agent Larkin, I would prefer the proper mode of address while we are on a mission."

He gives her a cocky grin, "Certainly, Agent Walker. Please accept my apologies."

It's obvious from his tone of voice and expression that he isn't really sorry at all.

Sarah hopes that future events don't throw them together again. She's not sure if she could work closely with him, that she could tolerate his cocksure demeanour for any length of time.

Just then he breaks into her thoughts, "You've done a great job here. You should be proud of all that you've accomplished these last months."

She looks at him closely, however senses nothing except genuine praise.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He looks at her with an expression she has trouble deciphering, "It must have been lonely, with no friendly contact for so long."

Sarah is not about to admit to this man that he's right. Or to anyone else for that matter.

She's not going to tell anyone how there were times she felt so isolated, so detached from the normal world of humanity that flows around her. How all the weight she carried made it nearly impossible to rise from her bed some days. How often she longed for a real connection of some sort, for an actual honest conversation.

She firmly quashes these thoughts once again, as she has done so often in the past.

 _After all, this is what I signed up for, isn't it?_

"Thank you for your concern, Agent Larkin. I assure you that I had no problems. I am perfectly fine."

He looks somewhat dubious but doesn't pursue the matter. She's grateful he's sensitive enough to drop the subject.

 _Maybe he's not quite as intolerable as I thought. Now back to business._

"Agent Larkin, I need to bring you up to speed about what happened here and what other measures we should take." As she says this, she walks to the balcony railing and picks up the fork from where it had fallen.

"Certainly, Agent Walker. Please fill me in." He looks around him again, "I'll admit I'm very curious." Pointing to the implement in her hand, and then sweeping his hand over the scene, he asks, "What does _that_ have to do with all _this_?"

TBC

—

 _A/N:I did some research on Paraguay. Hope I got the details right but apologies to any and all if I got anything wrong._

 _I'm had a little fun with some foreshadowing. Hope you enjoyed that as well._

 _Next time:Berlin, Breathing and Blondes_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N:Thank you all for the encouraging reviews of the first two. This is my pop culture reference chapter. Two movies, one mini series and two songs._

 _Chuck's back, so lots of Charah again._

 _Don't own Chuck, but I really hope the ones who do can bring us a movie soon. Please._

—

 **Chapter Three:Berlin, Breathing and Blondes**

"Later that day they rounded up some of Costa's known associates. After they were persuaded to talk, they tracked down the others who were involved as well. Their president, in what could be construed as an act of clemency, threw all of the plotters, except for Colonel Costa, into some hell hole prison instead of shooting them. Costa just disappeared. When they later dug up the plaza they found the bombs just as he'd said."

The stunned expression on Chuck's face, mouth agape, can't help but make her smile.

 _What's that expression about catching flies?_

Sarah reaches across the table and gently pushes Chuck's jaw up to close his mouth.

This action seems to bring him back to the present. He shakes his head as if to clear his mental vision and opens his mouth once more, however, nothing comes out immediately. He seems to gather his thoughts and finally speaks.

"If I understand this correctly, while deep undercover for months, basically alone, you had to work your first mission with Bryce, deal with a scummy, traitorous ex-classmate, all the while quelling a revolution using only a fork?" She hears and sees nothing but awe and astonishment as he asks.

Laughing, she replies, "Yes, Chuck, and next week they've assigned me to take down a dictatorship using only a spoon."

He chuckles, "Very funny."

But then he gives her the look. The same he'd given her as they talked on the sidewalk. The one that sends tingles down her spine.

"But if anyone could do it, it would be you. Sarah Walker, do you know how utterly amazing you are?"

She ducks her head, blushing.

 _How does he do that to me?_

She starts to protest, "No, Chuck. I'm just well trained and-"

Gently, but firmly, he cuts her off, "Nope. Sorry, not accepting that malarkey. Not one person in a thousand could've done what you did. On second thought, make that a million."

Even as the warmth from this suffuses through her, she continues in her dissent, "Chuck, I think you're a little biased. After all, other agents have..."

Her voice tapers off as she sees his stern expression that brooks no disagreement with his statement.

"Are we done with that?" She likes the protective fierceness she hears in his voice.

She nods, feeling quite meek for some reason.

"Good. I thought for a moment you may have forgotten what I told you earlier."

Sarah, who for so long needed no one's reassurance, has realized today that she likes it from him, wants it from him. So even though it may sound like she's fishing for compliments, she asks anyway, "What specific part? You've said a lot today."

It seems he understands, so doesn't tease her.

She's thankful for that.

He reaches across the table and gently caresses her cheek, "The part where I told you that you are this beautiful, brave, brilliant, caring, loyal, loving person? Is that the part you meant?"

She nods again, suddenly finding it hard to speak.

"I thought so. I guess I'll just have to keep telling you that until you're convinced it's the truth. Don't worry, it's no burden for me to do so."

She brings her hand up, holds his against her cheek, softly says, "Thank you."

After a few quiet moments, he lowers his hand, taking hers in his as he does. He appears a little puzzled as he asks, "I'm still not quite sure what the fork means to you. I assume you're not planning to use it as a weapon. Wait, It's not the same one, is it?"

She chuckles, "No. I did keep that one though."

"So why the one in the bag today?."

"I have a standing request that when they're preparing a mission package for me, a fork is to be included."

"You mean like a good luck charm?"

"No, Chuck, I believe you make your own luck. To me it's a reminder to never give up on a situation, to be ready to improvise if things don't go the way they were planned. To never surrender to despair and instead believe you can do whatever it takes to come out on top."

He's grinning at her again, "Never give up. Never surrender."

"What?"

"Sarah, you just gave the longer and more inspirational version of the line from Galaxy Quest."

She remembers them watching it together and being mystified by most of the in-jokes that had him practically rolling on the floor. Though she hadn't got most of it, even after he tried to breathlessly explain, just seeing his unrestrained exuberance had made her laugh as well, had made her happy.

"That's just more proof you're turning me into a nerd. I think we need some higher class entertainment in our lives." She tries to say this seriously, but can't stop the smile which gives her away.

"Certainly, Miss Walker. Since it seems you have some affinity for Jane Austen, we can watch the long version of Pride & Prejudice next movie night. However, I have to warn you, it's over five hours."

"That's the one with Colin Firth, right?"

"I find your eagerness somewhat suspicious. Is it possible you have a thing for tall, curly haired Englishmen?"

"Englishmen? No. But I've recently discovered I _do_ have a thing for tall, curly haired men from Burbank. Who work for the Nerd Herd."

"Can you be more specific? There's probably a lot of guys who meet that criteria."

"Hmm. You know it's funny. I was just thinking earlier today about those other things I'm looking for, would want in the right man. He would have to be someone who is kind, patient, forgiving, brave, loyal, understanding, funny, unselfish and loving."

"Wow! That's quite a list. Were you able to find anyone who meets all those requirements?"

"As incredible as it may sound, I did. The sad part is I didn't understand he's been right in front of me for a very long time. It took me until today to finally acknowledge how I truly felt. To tell him I loved him."

Chuck looks at her appraisingly, "Well, knowing what I do of you, Miss Walker, it would have to be a very fortunate man to hear those words."

"That's what most people would think, but they would be wrong. The truth is that _I'm_ the fortunate one. Something was said a few minutes ago about one in a million. This man is surely that."

She pauses, "However, I do wonder if I almost left it until it was too late?"

"Don't worry about that. I think that man would have waited for as long as needed, as long as he felt there was some hope. Although, I believe he did get down in the dumps from time to time, wondering when it might happen."

"I hope he knows how sorry I am for that, for putting him through all those trials and tribulations."

"Yes, he does know that. However, he also wants you to know that those actions are in the past, and he doesn't want you to beat yourself up about them anymore."

"I'll try. However, I think I'll still need to apologize for a little longer yet."

"Well, if your actions of the past couple of hours are any indication, I'm sure he won't mind if you want to apologize a bit more. But he wants you to know it won't change how he feels about you even if you don't."

"That's because he's such a good man. More than I deserve."

"Nonsense. I know for a certainty that it's really the other way around. You know he's not perfect, don't you?"

"Oh, believe me. I'm well aware of that." She can't help but chuckle at his crestfallen expression.

"In fact, there are five things I can think of right now that he could work on."

"Oh! That many?" He swallows a little nervously.

She gives him a flat look, "And that's just for now."

He puts what she recognizes as a determined smile on his face, "OK, fire away. You know what they say is the biggest room?"

She raises an eyebrow, inquiringly.

"The room for improvement."

She groans a little at that. "Before we go any further, I think it's time we drop this third person thing, if that's OK with you?"

"Sarah, I don't believe words can express how much I appreciate all you've said. Thank you, so much." This time _he_ leans across the table to kiss her.

"But it was starting to creep me out, talking like that." He gives her a grin, "Besides, I was beginning to worry we were talking about some other guy."

They both laugh at that.

"We'll start with the easy ones."

"First of all, even though you're not bad looking, and I enjoy the view from across the table, there's a perfectly good empty seat right beside me. Your being there would make it much more conducive to arms around each other and other forms of PDA. Assuming you don't have any objection to that."

He gives her a relieved smile, quickly stands up, moves around the table, sits beside her. "No problem at all. After what's happened today I must admit I've developed a certain degree of comfort with public displays of affection."

He puts his arm around her shoulders, raises an eyebrow, "And by the way, 'not bad looking?'"

She grins, "Stop fishing."

He grins back, "OK. Putting away the rod and reel."

"Secondly, you need to know that while I enjoy your teasing, there are certain boundaries you should not have crossed. What you did was even a little cruel." She smiles to take the sting from her words.

He puts on a faux sorrowful expression, "I'm so sorry, Miss Walker. In what way have I been cruel?"

She nods towards the half eaten burger on his plate, "That's been sitting there for the last while and it appears you have no intention of finishing it. Yet, you don't offer it to me."

He smiles, "Please forgive me. It appears that even after your earlier demonstration, I have somehow managed to underestimate your insatiable appetite for cheeseburgers." He slides his plate over to her, "Have at it. It'll be cold, though. May have boy germs as well."

"Don't care." And she really doesn't.

They don't talk for a couple of minutes as she consumes the remainder of his burger. In the corner of her eye she catches his renewed amazement at the food's rapid disappearance.

After she finishes, wipes her mouth and hands, he asks, "Aren't you afraid of getting fat?"

She leans in closer and purrs into his ear, "Does it look like I'm getting fat?"

He appears stunned for a moment. Sarah guesses he's probably thinking of her in the red bikini.

And perhaps he's also remembering Dating 101:Be _very_ careful when commenting on a woman's weight. Better still, not to do so at all.

"No. Definitely not. In fact just the opposite. You may actually be too thin. On second thought, scratch that. You're pretty much perfect the way you are."

"Good boy. Besides, unlike some people," she reaches down and pats his stomach, "I actually work out."

He opens his mouth, about to protest, but she speaks first.

"And before you say anything, the answer is no. An all night Call of Duty marathon doesn't qualify as a workout."

He closes his mouth with a snap.

She snickers at his expression.

 _This is a lot of fun._

"Let's see. Where were we? Oh, yes. Point number three. This one is a little more serious. This is the one where you have to work on that problem of assuming things about me that aren't true."

It seems he's starting to get the drift of her approach, so while being attentive he doesn't look particularly upset about this shortcoming.

"And what assumptions are those, Miss Walker?"

"Earlier you said you felt I knew everything about you before we first met, giving me a distinct advantage. But the truth is that while I did read your file and knew a lot _about_ you, I didn't really _know_ you at all."

"I thought it was going to be a piece of cake, conning you, recovering the intersect. However, right from that first moment you confused me, puzzled me. You weren't the person I expected you to be and every moment we spent together reinforced how wrong I was in my assumptions."

"Chuck, despite the fact that you are so open, especially compared to me," he grins at that, "you surprised me then and have continued to surprise me right down to this day."

"And just how did I surprise you today?"

"There's been so many ways that I've lost track. But the one that stands out the most is when _you_ kissed _me_."

He's cheeky as he says, "You'll need to be more specific. After all, I've kissed you quite a few times today."

"You know which time I mean." He nods, grinning. "That came from so far out of the blue that I was shocked. I never expected it, didn't know how to respond for a second or two."

He smiles, "I noticed that."

She grins back, "Well, trust you to do so. You were different, when you pulled me in, with your hand in my hair. You'd never been that forceful before. It was very...unpredictable." She stops talking, a dreamy expression in her eyes, looking down at the table.

She feels him gently take her chin in his hand and turn her face towards his.

"I gathered from your response that you liked it?"

"Yes. Very much." She looks into his eyes for a few moments as his hand drops to cover hers on the table.

After a few seconds, she clears her throat, "The point is that we both need to learn so much about each other. We should never assume anything."

"I'm OK with that. Learning more about you will be very surprising and pleasurable as well, especially if today is any indication."

"Good. As long as we're on the same page here."

"We are." He gives her a look, "Sarah, you do realize that this last point was actually more about you than me?"

"I was simply using my example to drive home the point."

"Right. We'll go with that."

"Stop being sassy, mister. This is serious stuff here."

She sees the twinkle in his eye as he agrees, "OK. Gotcha. No more assumptions. What's point number four?"

"This has to do with a certain _ex-_ partner of mine and how you feel about him." She emphasizes the "ex" and is glad to see he picks up on that.

"When I mentioned him earlier, I noticed that you didn't react with any anger or jealousy, even though I know Bryce is a sore spot with you. I suspect you hid your feelings in order to not upset me and I thank you for your concern."

Sarah sees something in his expression she can't quite figure out, something that somehow makes her doubt the accuracy of her observation, but she decides to go on anyway.

"However, I want to assure you that you don't ever need to be jealous of him again. I don't want to see you wasting your emotional energy on what Bryce and I had or didn't have."

"OK."

"Chuck, I'm serious about...wait, _what_ did you say?"

He just grins at her, "I said OK. I won't be jealous about Bryce and you again."

Sarah is bewildered, like when you join a group in the middle of their conversation and can't quite make sense of what you're hearing.

"Let me get this straight. Even though Bryce and I had a relationship in the past and I could tell you weren't very happy when he showed up again, you decided to agree just because I'm asking you. Is that right?" Perplexed, she shakes her head at this.

He echoes her by shaking his head as well.

"No, Sarah. Even though there are very few things I wouldn't do if you asked, that's not the reason I agreed."

He grins at her again, "I actually came to the realization that I was no longer jealous just after I kidded you about the children thing."

At this, Sarah realizes she's out of her depth. She has no idea how the two connect.

"I don't see it."

"It was so easy to read your emotions, to see your relief when you understood I wasn't serious. Suddenly, the full import of your actions hit me, that you were no longer hiding, that I've been seeing the _real_ Sarah Walker for the past few hours. And even though this may sound presumptuous, I knew at that moment that you'd never shown Bryce that person, had never told him your deepest fears, had never truly opened your heart to him. Once I understood this, I knew that whatever Bryce and you had, it was really nothing compared to what you and I have right now."

He pauses, his face turned to hers, just a few inches away. Quietly, he says, "All he had was Agent Walker, the persona. But I have you, Sarah, the real girl. So why on earth would I be jealous?"

To say that Sarah is stunned by this revelation is a massive understatement.

This time it's _her_ mouth that's agape as she stares a him.

 _How did he figure that out? How does he know me so well? I've told him almost nothing about my relationship with Bryce and yet he summed up it's shortcomings in just a few words._

 _Time to stop wondering, Sarah. Just ask him._

"How did you know that, Chuck? How could you be so sure?"

"Sarah, I know you love me. Convinced beyond any doubt. But I can tell that even though you do, you've had to struggle with yourself to let me in, that you've battled against all your instincts and training. Everything, your expressions, your body language, your tone of voice, makes it so obvious that this is something that's new and strange to you, like you're finding your way in completely unfamiliar territory." Pausing, he captures her eyes again, "And that's why I'm sure."

Sarah can't remember a day that has brought so many genuine tears to her eyes. They're starting again as she rests her head against his shoulder, her chin down, "I'm sorry that I'm not good at this. You deserve better." Her voice is quiet, disappointed, even a little bitter.

"Hold on. I never said you weren't good at this. I'm sorry if that's the impression I gave you."

"Sarah, please look at me." She slowly raises her eyes to his.

"The truth is that you are absolutely fantastic at this."

"But you just told-"

"What I told you is that I see your struggle. But I also see your total determination to make this work. I sense your amazing willpower every time you do or say something that that part of you says you shouldn't. And in all of this, I feel your trust in me. In us."

She just looks at him, warmed to her core.

"If you'd been conning a mark, convincing him that you loved him, you would have carried this off perfectly. No stumbling, no faltering. The very fact that you _have_ stumbled, faltered, even just a little bit, shows me just how important this is to you. How much you want to get this right."

"But, Chuck, if I was conning someone like you that's just the way I would approach it."

" _Are_ you conning me?" He asks, grinning.

She flushes a bit, "No, of course not. But if I was, you would never know."

"Don't be too sure of that. Let me ask you a question. Would you ever tell a mark what you've told me about yourself today? Let him see how vulnerable you are?"

She pauses, thoughtful for a few moments, "No. You're right. I would never expose myself like that. I would just make up some story to fool him and protect myself at the same time."

"And that's why you're so fantastic at this. You're so accustomed to deflecting, hiding, that it's become second nature." He leans in a little closer, his eyes only a few inches from hers, "But today you pushed all that aside and basically said to me, 'Here's the real woman. Please love me for what I am.'"

She can't speak, her throat tight, eyes stinging.

He almost whispers, "Sarah, I've seen over and over again just how truly brave you are. But this, I think, is the most courageous act of all."

Sarah has received extensive praise, both written and verbal, for the many successful missions she's carried out over the course of her career. But it's all meaningless, inconsequential compared to what this man, her man, has just told her.

Even at this moment one of her warning voices tries to rear its ugly head, _Don't get too attached to this, Agent Walker. Once he has what he wants, sooner or later, the praise, the appreciation will stop._

She ruthlessly crushes the thought.

 _Other men, yes. Never with Chuck. Never._

On this subject, there is not even the tiniest shred of doubt.

It's a little hard to see clearly through the tears, but she doesn't need absolute clarity to recognize the adoration displayed in his gaze. She doesn't need a distinct image of his lips in order to find them with hers.

 _This_ kiss is a tender, gentle, comforting, reassuring promise, everything she needs right now. The type of kiss no one had given her before him. The type of kiss that no one was _capable_ of giving her before him.

And right then Sarah knows those warning voices will be forever stilled.

...

 _Wow!_

That's the first word that comes to his mind as he slowly pulls his head back from hers, looking into those incredible blue eyes which have entranced him for so long. Eyes, at this moment, brimming with tears and promise.

 _What's that old song? I Only Have Eyes For You? That's it._

For so long that's exactly how he's felt about her. That no matter what distractions there had been along the way, he really does only have eyes for her. And now to clearly see that same conviction reflected in her expression is a little bit overwhelming.

 _Who am I kidding? It's totally overwhelming. I wonder if you can die from being too happy?_

Chuck fervently hopes that's not possible. Because if it is, he's likely close to expiring right now. And while there would certainly be worse ways to go, he would really like some time to enjoy what he knows now will be the best part of his life. The part that started today. With her.

Suddenly he feels short of breath, a little dizzy, and for a moment wonders if this is some weird self-fulfilling prophecy. He panics for a second until he realizes it's just that he hasn't taken a breath since he kissed her.

He gulps in some air. Her little smile makes it clear that she's noticed his inattention to oxygen intake.

Sometimes he wishes she wasn't so observant.

She says, giggling, "Breathe, Chuck. You know, inhale, then exhale. Repeat as needed."

"I normally don't have a problem with this, Sarah. It's just what happens when I'm around you. Or thinking of being around you. Or dreaming of being around you. It's like that Berlin song."

"What does a song about the capital of Germany have to do with your breathing issues?" She looks puzzled.

"I'm sensing another gap in your music appreciation. Well, we can work on it the next little while. The song is by the group _named_ Berlin. They used it in the movie 'Top Gun'."

There's only a blank expression on her face.

"You know, Tom Cruise, Val Kilmer, Kelly McGillis, dogfights with F-14 Tomcats."

She perks up, "Tomcats. I flew one of those a couple of times."

"What?! You can fly jets?"

"You sound surprised."

"No, astonished is a better word. Constantly astonished by you. Is there anything you _can't_ do?"

"Well, apparently I can't get my boyfriend to tell me what song he's talking about."

"OK, Miss One-Track-Mind, I'll tell you. It's called 'Take My Breath Away'. And you do just that. A lot. To the point I've kinda lost track of how many times that's happened in the last little while."

That earns him an appreciative look and a kiss.

She's thoughtful, "Maybe we should watch this movie together."

"Gladly, Sarah. But I do have a couple of reservations."

"And what might those be?"

"There's a beach volleyball scene where most of the actors don't wear any shirts. A number of them are quite buff and I really don't want to see you drooling. It would be personally humiliating not to mention a little unsanitary."

"Chuck, I've seen you with your shirt off today and..."

He jumps in, "So I _was_ right! You _were_ checking me out earlier. Like what you see, Miss Walker?" He pulls back a little and flexes for her.

"If you'd let me finish, I was going to say you don't have to worry about me being attracted to well muscled, good looking guys. I'm only attracted to you." She finishes with a sweet smile, batting her eyelashes.

"Ouch! That was a low blow."

"Told you to stop fishing."

He laughs and throws his hands up in surrender, "OK. You got me."

"You said you had a couple of reservations. What's the other one?"

"I had a bit of a thing for Kelly McGillis in this movie. Thought I might embarrass myself if I watched it again."

"Wait. Just to be clear. Kelly is a girl, right?"

"Very funny. And to answer your question, most assuredly, yes."

"How old were you when you watched it?" She smirks, "Or should I say, watched her?"

He blushes, "I saw it on VHS when I was about fifteen."

"So you were a hormone driven teenager. That would have been fun to see."

He flushes a bit more at that.

"And let me guess. She was a brunette, right?"

Chuck is sure he hears a little edge in her voice as she says this. It makes him wonder what that's about but he decides to ignore it for now.

"No, actually she was a tall blonde, blue eyes, beautiful. Unattainable. In that way, like another tall, beautiful blonde of my acquaintance. At least until quite recently, that is."

"Now I really need to see this movie. To check out the competition."

"Trust me. No need. That was just a childhood fantasy. Got the reality right beside me. It's much better than some idealized dream woman."

"So you're saying you never dream about me?"

"Of course I do. A lot. The difference is that when I wake up you're actually in my life and not just a memory of an image on the screen."

"I suppose that does give me an edge."

"Decidedly so. And the fact she's close to twice my age and no longer interested in men also gives you a significant leg up."

"I guess that kinda ruins the memories of your teenage crush."

"No matter. I've got everything I need right here."

She snuggles in a little closer and he kisses her hair.

"Chuck, there's still one more point to discuss."

"It's the red thing, right?"

She nods. Chuck hadn't been purposely trying to deflect but part of him had hoped she had forgotten about this. Telling her is going to be difficult, embarrassing. Even shameful.

 _How can I ask her to open up to me if I'm not willing to do the same?_

"OK, here goes."

TBC

—

 _A/N: Not quite done with talk about the multi pronged eating tool or the "Ex". All will be resolved next chapter. Sort of has to because it's the last one._

 _All reviews are really appreciated._

 _Coming up:The Bowtie, the Blonde and the Boyfriend._


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N:Here we go. The last chapter. I said there would be some angst in this story and here it is. Fear not. Only happy stuff in the end._

 _As I've mentioned in my other author's notes, I don't always pay strict attention to timelines and story lines from the canon. I pick and choose what I want or like and leave out what I don't. So the references here are canonical without being actual canon. So please don't get upset if things don't go exactly as they did in the episode upon which I based a large part of this chapter._

 _Don't own Chuck or any of the characters. Having fun with them though._

—

 **Chapter Four:The Bow Tie, the Blonde and the Boyfriend**

For a man who is supposedly dead, Bryce Larkin has the most annoying habit of being resurrected back into Chuck's life at the worst possible times.

As he approaches Sarah's room he is comforted (though he's quite sure that's not the best word) by the thought that at least this time he isn't going to be surprised by Bryce being behind her door.

The last time he'd walked towards her room his mood had been cautiously optimistic, hopeful. There had even been a little skip in his step.

It had seemed like there was _something_ between him and Sarah. Some little spark, that if carefully nurtured, could maybe, just maybe, lead to something bigger, something real.

He hadn't realistically expected that the Montgomery thing would cause her to swoon into his arms. (Although, in a brief moment of self-indulgent fantasy, he'd pictured just that.) No, he'd just hoped she might find it a least a little romantic. Possibly that it might put her in the mood to laugh, talk a little, to spend some time together.

Real laughter, real talk, real time. Not for the cover.

Then Sarah had answered the door, clearly uncomfortable, Bryce unexpectedly appearing behind her.

And just like that, everything was back to square one. Negative square one if that was possible.

Chuck's mood deflated so quickly it was like someone had dumped him out of an airlock.

In retrospect, dumped seemed a very appropriate way of putting it.

Over the next day, he'd seen how she'd looked at Bryce, acted around him. Though Chuck desperately hoped he was wrong, it appeared that she was delighted, charmed by Bryce's suave words and confident actions.

And good looks. Let's not forget good looks.

It all showed, so clearly, the gulf between his foolish hopes and the harsh reality he now faces.

How could he expect to compete with Bryce Larkin? Even ignoring his many other pluses, just the fact that he and Sarah had this _history_ was enough to give him an enormous advantage.

Chuck thinks about what he and Sarah actually had. That kiss on the docks, some conversations, a few laughs, some faked dates and some shared dangers. Nothing compared to the exciting, thrilling, romantic escapades that she and Bryce must have experienced.

And now to put the icing on the cake, Beckman had decided that Bryce should portray Sarah's husband in tonight's op. Chuck would get to play the waiter.

When he'd first heard Beckman's words he'd thought that this plan made no sense. After all if someone is going to explore the house, shouldn't it be him, the one who could actually flash on anything they found? At first he'd believed that his desire to be with Sarah had clouded his judgement in this matter. But later, upon further thought realized his first idea was, in fact, correct.

So Bryce gets to be with Sarah. Playing her husband. Showing her affection. All this at a party, so dancing as well.

And Chuck gets to be a waiter.

Thank you, General. So much.

As he nears that green door Chuck can't help but compare what he's feeling now as contrasted to last night.

No optimism.

No hope.

Instead, soul-crushing, bitter disappointment.

And anger.

With Bryce, for so casually dropping in and ruining his life. Again.

With himself, for stupidly getting his hopes up. Again.

And truth be told, with Sarah, for her part in building up those very hopes only to see her tear them down. Again.

So much anger.

And jealousy.

Lots and lots of that.

He's far more jealous about Bryce with Sarah than he ever was during the whole mess with Jill. Which, when he thinks of it, doesn't make a lot of sense. He'd actually had a relationship with Jill. She had been his actual girlfriend, not this nebulous, indeterminate, whatever this is, he has, or maybe now, had, with Sarah.

Yet, he feels this much more keenly. Every time he sees Bryce with her it feels like someone has punched him in the gut. And every time Sarah responds to Bryce's overtures, even just a little bit, it's like someone has knifed him in that same gut.

The loss of what might have been with Sarah is far more devastating than what he actually lost with Jill. And to lose that potential future to Bryce makes him almost physically sick with envy.

And guilt.

Way, way too much of that.

Chuck at his core is a logical man. Analytical to a fault. Able to see both sides of every equation.

It's both a blessing and a curse.

He knows he really has no right to demand anything from her. That no matter what he's tried to read into their situation, that she's never truly made any type of commitment to him.

To therefore expect her to be faithful to something that doesn't exist is pure selfishness on his part.

But that self-centred part of him still expects, even demands, her to be just that.

Faithful.

Thus, the guilt.

Chuck is well aware that he's only been thinking of himself in all this. That he's never stopped and asked himself, "What does Sarah want?"

Who is he to try to stop her being with Bryce if that's what she needs? If that's what would make her happy?

And what right does he have to be angry with this woman who has risked her life over and over again to protect him? This person who has put her life on hold to take care of an often whiny, selfish, irritating computer nerd? Who through all of this has given him her friendship?

No, that is one thing he will not do. When he goes into her room tonight, he will not be angry with Sarah. She deserves better than that.

He knocks. Bryce opens the door with a flippant remark about Chuck not bringing him a rose this time.

Chuck isn't surprised. This is Bryce after all.

As they ready themselves, standing in front of the mirror, Chuck is again reminded of that massive disparity between him and Bryce.

Bryce ties his own bow tie.

Chuck has a clip on.

That seemingly simple contrast says so much. Demonstrates so succinctly his inferiority.

There's a brutally painful stab of jealousy as he notices Bryce's open suitcase on the chair. And even though Bryce assures him its only for the cover and he so wants to believe it, that ugly part of him can't help but imagine for a moment what might have happened earlier in this room.

When Bryce implies that Chuck has fallen for her, he lies. He will not admit to this man how deeply he cares. Will not let him know how much of his heart she occupies.

He _will not_ give Bryce the satisfaction of knowing that he has so callously crushed Chuck's hopes once more.

So when Sarah steps out of the bathroom, asking how she looks, he knows he can't tell her the truth.

That she is stunningly, unbelievably beautiful. That her dress is incredible, amazing. That it feels like someone had removed all the oxygen in the room at the moment she walked in.

That every time he sees her, he falls in love just a little bit more.

No, instead of saying what he truly feels, damn whatever Bryce thinks, he goes on stupidly, childishly about not really being into red.

As Chuck leaves the room, he knows that he has taken the coward's way out.

And he's ashamed.

…

Chuck only knows she's crying because his shirt is suddenly damp at the point where her head rests on his chest.

"Sarah, what is it? Are you OK? What have I done?"

She looks up to his face, her eyes shining with tears.

She swallows before answering, "Besides loving someone who doesn't deserve you, nothing, nothing at all."

"What do you mean?"

"Chuck, I know that I've treated you badly in the past. But until right now I didn't really know how deeply I'd hurt you. How did you ever forgive me, find a way to keep on loving me?"

"Sarah, I didn't tell you that story with the intent of making you feel bad. Please believe me."

She nods. "I do. But, Chuck, you need to know that nothing went on between Bryce and me. I told him that we needed to keep it to just a cover and we did. I only wish now I'd told you that then. I'm so sorry that our actions caused you so much heartache. I thought, wrongly, that you could tell it was just an act."

She chuckles a little ruefully, her eyes still wet, "I guess I should be more careful about making speeches about not assuming anything."

"Sarah, you don't need to defend yourself to me. It's _my_ insecurities, _my_ actions that are the issue here. And even if something had gone on, you wouldn't have been in the wrong. I didn't have any hold on you."

"And that's where you're wrong, Chuck Bartowski. You did have a hold on me. I just didn't realize it at the time. I know now that you were the reason I told Bryce to keep it professional. All because of you."

Chuck is suddenly very glad there isn't an occupied table close to them. He's not really one for tears in public. Considering the trouble he has in holding them in right now, it's just as well that no one except Sarah can see the evidence on his face.

"Sarah, I know I was an idiot, blinded by jealousy and anger." She starts to protest but he cuts her off, "No, I was. No excuses. I'm ashamed to think of it now. I'll be honest, that was the closest I ever came to just giving up. The only thing I can say in my defense is that when a couple of people helped me to see how stupid I was being, I stopped going down that road. Turned around."

"Who helped you? Ellie? Devon? Morgan?"

"No. It was first of all you."

"When was that?"

"After the Von Hayes party, when you were in the hospital after saving my life...again. By the way did I ever thank you for that time? You've done the same so many times that I can't always recall the specifics."

"Don't worry, Chuck. While I appreciate the words, I don't need them every time. I can always tell when you're grateful."

"You know me that well, do you?"

"Getting there."

He pulls her a little closer before going on, "Well, when I brought you the gardenias and saw the massive display of flowers from Bryce, I felt sorry for myself again and said I'd always come in second to him. But then you said-"

"Not always," she jumps in.

"Yes. And when you said those two simple words you gave me hope again. Just like that, I felt like this weight was starting to lift."

He kisses her hair again, "I know I haven't thanked you for that, so here is my belated, 'Thank You.'"

"Chuck, you said there was another person who helped you get over your issues, but if it wasn't Ellie or the others, I can't think who it could be. Wait, it wasn't Casey was it?"

He laughs, "No. There's about as much chance of Casey discussing 'lady feelings' as having pork in the treetops. No, strangely enough it was Bryce himself who steered me in the right direction."

"Bryce?! How did he do that?"

"I'm sure it was quite unintentional on his part. He kept going on about how your having feelings for me was dangerous. About how you lived in a merciless world where those feelings could get you hurt or worse. He did his best to convince me that I had to do the right thing in order to keep you safe."

He feels her tense up as she spits out, "Selfish bastard!"

It's rare for Sarah to use expletives, even during the most stressful situations they've faced. So he's surprised when this even relatively mild one comes from her mouth.

She sits up straight and turns so she can look at him. He can tell she's angry.

 _Very angry._

He jokingly says, "You _are_ talking about Bryce, right?"

Sarah gives him her don't mess with me glare.

He gulps, "Gotcha. Bryce it is."

"Chuck, you know what he was trying to do don't you? He's told me numerous times that he wanted us to be a team again. To have things back the way they were between us. He knew you were an obstacle to that. So he tried to manipulate you, to use your unselfish nature against you."

"Yes, I did figure that out...eventually. But at first, what he said seemed to make sense."

Still fuming, she says, "It would. Remember, he's well trained."

"Well, telling me you were in danger because of me certainly pushed all the right buttons. My first instinct was to trust his judgement. To trust he was only concerned for your welfare."

He brings his face a little closer to hers, softly says, "Sarah, you know I will do whatever is necessary, whatever I can, to keep you safe."

She's tender in her reply, "Yes, Chuck. I do know that. You proved that often enough by not staying in the car."

There's anger again as she goes on, "The problem is that Bryce knew that as well and he used it."

"Yes, he did. But he did it so well that I ignored all the other signs that were there because of my concern for you. Do you remember the night after that party? When we talked beside the fountain?"

"Yes. It was nice to just be able to wind down after all that had happened. It was fun, relaxing, comforting. Like it usually is with you."

"Yes, it was a great evening." He's reluctant but pushes on, "But, Sarah, you need to know that when you walked into the courtyard that night, I was planning to break up with you. To break off whatever it was that we he had going on behind the cover."

"What?! Why would you have done that?"

"Because Bryce had me convinced that was the right thing to do. The best way to protect you."

There's fire in her eyes, "I swear. The next time I see Bryce Larkin, someone's getting their butt kicked and it's sure as hell not gonna be me!"

He grins at her fervor, "Can I help?"

Sarah briefly chuckles but then is silent for a few seconds, reflective, "Chuck, I know I hadn't fully resolved my feelings for you then. That was my bad." She looks into his eyes, "Even so, if you had pushed me away like that, I know it would have broken my heart. I'm not sure if I would have had the courage to stay around long enough to ever acknowledge how I really felt. We likely would never have had today."

He chokes a little at the thought of this, "Then it's just as well that I finally figured out what Bryce was doing before I did something so unbelievably stupid."

She leans in to quickly kiss him, "Yes. It definitely was."

Encouraged by that, he continues, "When I was sitting there, waiting for you, mulling over Bryce's advice, it finally clicked in how blind I had been. _He was jealous of you and me_. I think he saw what we _did_ have and recognized it could turn into even more. Suddenly everything was clear. All his 'concern' was just a smokescreen for what he really wanted. _You_. I knew I had been a fool, reading a lot into things that weren't there. Don't get me wrong here. It wasn't as if I was suddenly able to rise above it all. I was still jealous of what you and Bryce had before, but at least _this_ situation didn't bother me anymore."

"And I wasn't going to let him spoil our chances by meekly going in the direction he'd pushed me. I wasn't going to give up on us."

She nods, her agreement and approval evident in her expression.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, she blurts out, "Chuck, you're my fork!"

"Er, Thanks? Never been likened to cutlery before." He looks at her a little dubiously, "To be honest, Sarah, as a pet name that one kinda sucks."

She smacks him gently on the back of his head, "It's not a pet name, you goof. Remember when I told you the fork was my reminder to keep fighting, to never give in to despair, even if the odds are against you?"

He nods, "Of course."

"So when I need to be reminded of that in the future, I'm going to think of you. How you kept fighting for me, for us, even when it seemed there was almost no hope."

She grins, "Never give up. Never surrender. And you didn't. So now you're my fork."

He grins back, "OK. When you put it that way, I like the sound of it. However, you need to promise me that you'll think of me as a manly type of fork, not one of those fancy, dainty ones women use at tea parties."

"Never been to a tea party, but I think I've got the idea." She pats him on the cheek, "Don't worry, you'll always be a manly fork kind of guy to me."

"I appreciate that.

She studies his face for a few seconds, "Chuck, you were right about the term 'massive disparity'. There is certainly that between you and Bryce."

"Gee, thanks." He's not really upset because he knows enough of her by now to realize there is no hurtful intent behind the words. He tries to sound sarcastic but doubts he pulls it off, "It's so kind of you to remind me of that."

"Hey, don't be cheeky, mister. You know what I mean. For example, if the situation was reversed and you were in Bryce's place, how would you have handled all of this?"

"Well, first of all, I hope I wouldn't have been so idiotic as to lose someone as incredible as you in the first place."

She tilts her head, looks at him, smiling, "You really are a charmer, aren't you?

"Not really. The words just seem to come out when I'm with you. Only with you."

"Keep it that way and I've got no problem. But back to the matter under discussion. In this case we're assuming you've already been an idiot and we're no longer together. What would you do?"

"Before today I'm not sure how firm my answer would have been. I think I wouldn't have been very assertive. But now, after even this small taste of what it's really like to be with you, I would have absolutely no doubts. I'd fight to get you back. As hard as I could, for as long as I could. The only way I would back off is if you were unequivocal in rejecting me. Then, as hard as that would be, I would respect your decision. Because I love you too much to put you through all the grief that comes with that kind of undesirable attention."

"And if there was another guy hanging around, what would you do?"

"I would tell him how I felt and that I was going to try to get you back. Give him fair warning."

"And there it is. That 'massive disparity' between you and Bryce. You wouldn't manipulate that other guy or lie to him in order to get him out of the way. As well, you would respect my choice. Honor my decision to be with someone else."

"And Chuck, sweetie, this is just the tip of the iceberg. Don't you see how vastly superior you are to Bryce?"

Caught unawares by both her praise and her first real term of endearment, Chuck can't find the words to reply.

 _Damn tears._

It's just too much. He shakes his head.

Perhaps she sees this as disagreement or uncertainty, so goes on, "Despite the fact that you're no longer jealous of Bryce it seems to me you still believe that you are somehow inferior to him. That you've got this 'disparity' thing the wrong way around. Am I right in this?"

His lack of response combined with his downcast eyes is apparently all the answer she needs.

This time it's Sarah who takes _his_ chin with _her_ hand, gently turns his face towards her, "Chuck Bartowski, you are a better man than Bryce Larkin ever _was_ or ever _will_ be. On his very best day, he is not even close to being as good as you are on your very worst."

"While I hope that this is the last time I need to tell you this, I am prepared to keep on doing so if necessary." She smiles, then echoes his earlier words, "Until you're convinced it's the truth. Don't worry, it's no burden for me to do so."

"You got that, sweetie?"

He just nods numbly, momentarily overcome by her amazingly accurate perception of his self-doubts.

And those words.

Right now he feels like he could fly. That nothing is beyond his reach as long as she's here beside him, saying things like that.

 _Better than I'd ever dreamed._

...

 _Good._

It appears it's finally starting to sink in. That he's starting to realize there's no real comparison between him and Bryce.

Despite her stated hopes, Sarah is doubtful that this is the last time she'll need to reassure him. But that's OK. Look how many times he's done the same for her. However, it's not as if she does it because she feels she has to, as if she's keeping score.

No, she simply can't stop herself.

When she sees him plagued by his insecurities, it tears at her heart. Especially when she is to blame, at least partially, for many of them.

No, it's the love she feels that drives her, compels her, to do whatever she can to comfort him, help him to heal his wounds.

A year ago, Sarah knows she would have scoffed at the idea of feeling this way towards someone under her protection. Certainly there were past instances where she'd had to care for the emotional needs of an asset. However, it was all pretense, simply done for expediency, with little thought given to the damage being done to the recipient of her duplicitous words.

It was during times like this that she'd occasionally asked herself (usually on those nights when she couldn't sleep) if the normal emotions of empathy and compassion and love had been beaten out of her.

And at one of her lowest points, just after burning an asset, she'd wondered if those feelings had ever really been there in the first place. That perhaps she is nothing but an efficient machine, devoid of those human qualities which would serve to differentiate her from nature's unfeeling predators.

Where would she be, what would she be, if it hadn't been for the people this mission had brought into her life, the ones she's come to know and love?

Morgan. Devon. Ellie. Even Casey.

And Chuck. It always comes back to Chuck.

All of them had, each in their own unique way, helped to bring her back from the brink.

She owes so, so much to them all, but of course, most of all to him. It's a debt she doubts she can ever fully repay.

But she's going to try her damnedest. Starting right now. This second.

This man deserves a thank you, the kind of thank you kiss Sarah wonders for a second if she can give him in public.

 _Just go for it, Sarah. No more holding back. Remember?_

Planting her feet, she raises herself from her chair, swings around and scoots across him so that she winds up sitting across his lap. She throws her arms around his neck and closes the small gap between their lips in a rush.

Sarah puts everything she has into her kiss. All her gratitude, all her devotion, all her love.

And so much else that she hasn't yet put into words.

She can tell he's surprised by her ardor. She smiles even as she continues to kiss him. He doesn't respond for a second or two but one thing Chuck has shown today is that he's a quick study. He wraps his arms firmly around her and eagerly reciprocates, apparently not much concerned with an excessive public display.

For not the first time today, Sarah is aware of nothing but him.

The smattering of applause and good natured laughter from the other patrons brings them back to reality, but only after what seems like a considerable while.

Touching her forehead gently against his, she quietly says, "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

"You're certainly welcome. That kind of thanks is always appreciated. However, I'm a little puzzled as to what it is that you're grateful for?"

"Everything. For being you. For loving me. For saving me. Just…everything."

He looks at her for a few long seconds before smiling and gently saying, "Everything, huh? That's a tall order to fill, but incentives like that will certainly motivate me to keep doing my very best."

Sarah has no doubt he'll keep doing just that, not solely (in spite of his words) for the reward, but rather because he's the only man who has come to genuinely and unselfishly put her needs and her protection ahead of his own.

And in doing so, has made her aware that she's capable of doing the same for him.

Not that there was ever any problem with the physically protective part. Right from the start Sarah had demonstrated her absolute, single-minded ferocity towards any and all that had tried to harm him. All this while still denying her feelings, telling herself he was just another asset.

And now that they're _actually_ together...

Suffice it to say, that anyone at this point even _contemplating_ the slightest injury to Chuck Bartowski (or those close to him) should instead give serious thought to leaving the state. Better still, the country. Or maybe the continent.

Now.

No, it was in the matter of his heart that she had fallen down. That heart that she'd not only failed to protect, but had instead damaged over and again.

No more.

This day is their real beginning . A fantastic first step, admittedly, but still just that.

Just the first step.

It's what she does from this point forward that really matters.

Can she truly put his feelings first? Take care of his emotional needs as well as she's safeguarded his physical body? She's never done that for anyone before. The challenge of doing so worries at her, making her wonder if someone like her is capable of being that kind of person.

But then she looks at him again and knows he is worth all her effort. She'll do whatever it takes.

This is her most important mission yet. One that she will _not_ fail.

Because she loves him. And she trusts him. Like no one else before him.

Sarah knows that when she does let him down in some way (and she will) he'll always be there to hold her and tell her it's OK.

And when he does let her down in some way (and he will) she'll always be there to hold him and tell him it's OK.

It's an amazing feeling, to have that absolute confidence in not just him, but herself as well.

There is still so much more she needs to tell him. But she's a little tired. She finds it hard to believe that this happened so quickly, so unexpectedly.

All of this, _this intensity,_ has brought her close to an emotional overload.

And while she wouldn't trade a single moment of it, she needs some time to quietly process it all. And judging from Chuck's silence over the last few minutes, she thinks he needs the same.

So for right now, all she wants is to silently revel in their closeness. Still sitting across his lap, she lays her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes.

Abruptly, her happiness is pushed aside by an overpowering sense of déjà vu. She has been in this physical position before, with some forgotten mark, on some forgotten mission. Sudden, unreasoning panic starts her mind racing.

What if she's just imagined this whole thing? What if Chuck has been taken from her? What if this man with his arms around her is just another mark in a long succession of such? What if this is just another mission that will leave her cold and alone when it's over?

What if, what if…

 _Please, don't let it all be a dream._

Sarah is so very much afraid it is just that. Despite all his reassurances, a part of her still believes a person like her doesn't really deserve such happiness.

She is consciously aware that she's in the grip of a foolish, irrational terror. Nonetheless, it's power is such that it holds her back from taking even that simplest of actions needed to allay her fears. And the longer she delays the more difficult it becomes.

 _Please._

Then Sarah does something. Something, that, in a day filled with so many courageous acts, may just be the bravest one of all.

She opens her eyes.

And looks right into Chuck's kind, gentle brown ones, those she's loved from that first moment, so very close to hers.

It's at this instant that Sarah finally, genuinely grasps that she is not alone anymore.

Her apprehensions banished, she smiles, again closes her eyes and nestles even closer into the warm security of his embrace.

After a lifetime of wandering, Sarah Walker has found her home.

End.

—

 _A/N:I hope you've enjoyed my take on our two favorite characters. When I started this, I'd visualized something in the order of a 5-6,000 word supplement to Crosswalk. Seems like things got a little out of hand._

 _The "pork in the treetops" is from the movie "The Lion in Winter". In other words when pigs fly._

 _Not sure what or when I'll write next. I have come to understand I'm not going to be a prolific author as it's taken some months to write what many could turn out in just weeks or days. And really good stuff at that._

 _Thanks for reading. Thanks for all the kind reviews. Looking forward to more of those._


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